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I would not be Sir Nobbe * in any cafe.
Eli. I like thee well; wilt thou forsake thy fortune,
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?
I am a foldier, and now bound to France.
Phil. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance;

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Your face hath got five hundred pound a-year,
Yet fell your face for five pence, and 'tis dear.
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.

Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me thither.
Phil. Our country-manners give our betters way...t
K. John. What is thy name?

Phil. Philip, my Liege, so is my name begun:af Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest fon.

K. John. From henceforth bear his name, whofe form thou bear'ft.

Kneel thou down Philip, but rise up more great; d Arife Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

Phil. Brother by th' mother's fide, give me your

hand;

My father gave me honour, your's gave land.
Now blessed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, Sir Robert was away!

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Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet! I am thy grandam Richard, call me fo. Phil. Madam, by chance, but not by truth; what

though?

Something about, a little from the right,

In at the window, or else o'er the hatch.
Who dares not ftir by day, must walk by night,
And have his have, however men do catch:

Near or far off, well won is still well shot;
And I am I, howe'er I was begot.

K. John. Go, Faulconbridge, now haft thou thy

defire;

A landless knight makes thee a landed 'squire. Come, Madam, and come, Richard, we must speed For France, for France; for it is more than need.

Phil. Brother, adieu; good fortune come to thee, For thou was got i' the way of honesty.

[Exeunt all but Philip..

* Nick-name, in contempt, of Sir Robert.

VOL. III.

Pp

SCENE

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A foot of honour better than I was,
But many a many foot of land the worse!
Well, now can I make any Joan a lady.

"Good-den, Sir Richard, Godamercy, fellow;.
"And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter;
"For new-made honour doth forget mens names.
"'Tis too respective and unsociable.

"For your converfing. Now your traveller,

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He and his tooth-pick at my Worship's mess; " And when my knightly stomach is fuffice'd, Why then I fuck my teeth, and catechise My piked * man of countries; -My dear Sir, (Thus leaning on mine elbow, I begin), " I shall befeech you, that is question now; "And then comes answer like an ABC-book. "O Sir, fays answer, at your best command, "At your employment, at your service, Sir."No Sir, fays question, I, sweet Sir, at your's." And so ere answer knows what question would,

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Serving in dialogue of compliment;

" And talking of the Alps and Apennines,

"The Pyrenean and the river Po.;
" It draws towards fupper in conclufion, fo.
"But this is worshipful fociety,

And fits the mounting spirit like myself:
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation;
[And fo am I, whether I smack or no]; t

And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, sweet poifon for the age's tooth;
Which tho' I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn;
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rifing.
But who comes in fuch haste in riding-robes?
What woman post is this? hath the no husband,
That will take pains to blow a horn before her?

* i e, formally bearded.

† A nonfenfical line of the players.

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O me! it is my mother. Now, good Lady,
What brings you here to court so hastily ?

SCENE IV.

Enter Lady Faulconbridge, and James Gurney.
Lady. Where is that slave, thy brother, where is he,

That holds in chace mine honour up and down?
Phil. My brother Robert, old Sir Robert's fon,
Colbrand the giant, that fame mighty man,
Is it Sir Robert's fon that you feek fo?

Lady. Sir Robert's fon; ay, thou unrev'rend boy, Sir Robert's fon: why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert? He is Sir Robert's fon, and fo art thou.

Phil. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a while?
Gur. Good leave, good Philip.
Phil. Philip!-spare me, James;

There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell thee more.

[Exit James.

Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's fon;
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his faft.
Sir Robert could do well; marry, confefs!
Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it;
We knew his handy-work; therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholden for these limbs?
Sir Robert never holpe to make this leg.

Lady. Haft thou conspired with thy brother too, That, for thine own gain, should'st defend mine honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave ? Phil. Knight, knight, good mother - Bafilisco

like *.

What! I am dubb'd; I have it on my shoulder.
But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's fon;
I have difclaim'd Sir Rohert, and my land;
Legitimation, name, and all is gone.

* The words allude to an expreffion in an old foolish play, then the common butt of ridicule called Soliman and Perfeda. But the beauty of the passage consists in his alluding, at the same time, to his high original. His father, Richard I. was furnamed Cœur de lion; and the Cor Leonis, a fixed star of the same magnitude, in the fign L20, is called Eafilifco. Mr. Warburton.

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Then, good my mother, let me know my father
Some proper man, I hope; who was it, mother?
Lady. Haft thou deny'd thyfelf a Faulconbridge?
Phil. As faithfully as I deny the devil.

Lady. King Richard Cœur-de-lion was thy father;

By long and vehement suit I was seduce'd
To make room for him in my husband's bed.
Heav'n lay not my tranfgreffion to my charge?
Thou art the issue of my dear offence,
Which was so strongly urge'd past my defence.
Phil. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not wish a better father.
Some fins do bear their privilege on earth,
And so doth your's; your fault was not your folly;
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispofe,

Subjected tribute to commanding love;
Against whose fury, and unmatched force,
The awless lion could not wage the fight;
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hands,
He that perforce robs lions of their hearts,
May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother,
With all my heart, I thank thee for my father.
Who lives and dares but say, thou didst not well
When I was got, I'll fend his foul to heH.
Come, Lady, I will shew thee to my kin,

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And they shall say, when Richard me begot, If thou hadst said him Nay, it had been fin; Who fays it was, he lyes; I say 'twas not. [Exeunt.

ACTII.

SCENE

I. 4

Before the walls of Angiers in France. Enter Philip King of France, Lewis the Dauphin, the Archduke of Austria, Constance, and Arthur.

Lewis.

B

EFORE Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur! that great forerunner of thy blood,

Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart,
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave Duke came early to his grave:
And for amends to his pofterity,
At our importance hither is he come,

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To

To fpread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;

And to rebuke the ufurpation

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Of thy unnatural uncle, English John,
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.

Arth. God shall forgive your Cœur-de-lion's death,

The rather that you give his offspring life;
Shadowing their right under your wings of war.
I give you welcome with a pow'rless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.
Lewis. A noble boy! who would not do thee right?
Auft. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As feal to this indenture of my love;
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-face'd shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her iflanders;
Ev'n till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still fecure

And confident from foreign purposes,
Ev'n till that utmost corner of the west,
Salute thee for her King. Till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.

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Conft. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength, To make a more requital to your love.

Auft. The peace of Heav'n is theirs who lift their [fwords

In such a just and charitable war.

K. Phil. Well then, to work; our engines shall be

[bent

Against the brows of this resisting town;
Call for our chiefest men of difcipline,
To cull the plots of best advantages.
We'll lay before this town our royal bones,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood,
But we will make it subject to this boy.

Conft. Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood.
My Lord Chatilion may from England bring
That right in peace, which here we urge in war;
And then we shall repent each drop of blood

That hot rash haste so indirectly fhed.

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Enter

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