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“ But this is worshipful society,
And fits the mounting spirit like myself:
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not fmack of observation ;
[And so am I, whether I smack or no:]
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, sweet poison 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 rising.
But who comes in such hafte, in riding robes ?
What woman-post is this? hath she no husband,
That will take pains to blow a horn before her?
O me! it is my mother ; now, good lady,
What brings you here to court so hastily?

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Enter Lady Faulconbridge, and James Gurney.

Lady. Where is that Nave, thy brother, where is he, That holds in chase mine honour up and down?

Phil. My brother Robert, old Sir Robert's son,
Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man,
Is it Sir Robert's son, that you seek so?

“ towards supper." All this is sensible and humorous ; and the phrase of serving in is a very pleasant one to denote that this was his worship's second course. What follows shews the romantic turn of the voyagers of that time; how greedily their relations were Swallowed, which he calls fweet poison for the age's toob; and how acceptable it made men at court For is mall Arew the foorfleps of my rising. And yet the Oxford Editor says, by this fweei poison is meant flattery.

7 And so am I, whetber 1 [mack or no] A nonsensical line of the Players.

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

Phil. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a while? Gur. Good leave, good Philip.

Pbil. Pbilip! spare me, James ; There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell thee more.

[Exit James. Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son, 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 conspir'd with thy

brother too, That, for thine own gain, should'st defend mine honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? Pbil. "Knight, Knight, good motherBasiliscs

What! I am dub'd; I have it on my shoulder :
But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's fon;
I have disclaim'd Sir Robert, and my land ;
Legitimation, name, and all is gone:
Then, good my mother, let me know my father ;
Some proper man, I hope ; who was it, mother?
8 Philip, sparrow, James.] I think the Poet wrote,

Pbilip! Spare me, James. i. e. don't affront me with an appellation that comes from a Fa mily which I disclaim.

9 Knight, Knight, good mother— Basilisco like ] The words allude to an expression in an old foolish play, then the common but of ridicule. But the beauty of the passage confifts in his allod. ing, at the same time, to his high original. His father, Richard the forff, was surnamed Cæur-de-lion. And the Cor Leonis, a fixed ftar of the first magnitude, in the fign Leo, is called Bafilifco.


Lady. Haft thou deny'd thy self a Faulconbridge?
Pbil. As faithfully, as I deny the devil.

Lady. King Richard Cæur-de-lion was thy father ;
By long, and vehement suit, I was seduc'd
To make room for him in my husband's bed.
Heav'n lay not my transgression to my charge!
Thou art the issue of my dear offence,
Which was so strongly urg'd past my defence.

Pbil. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not with a better father.
Some fins do bear their privilege on earth,
And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly;
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,
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 send his soul to hell.
Come, lady, I will shew thee to my kin,

And they shall say, when Richard me begot, If thou hadît said him nay, it had been fin ; Who says, it was, helyes; I say, 'twas not.





S CEN E 1.

Before the Walls of Angiers in France.

Enter Philip King of France, Lewis the Dauphin, the

Archduke of Austria, Constance, and Arthur.

EFORE Angiers well met, brave Austria.

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 posterity,
At our importance hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, 'English Fobn.
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.

Arth. God shall forgive you Cæur-de-lion's death
The rather, that you give his off-spring life ;
Shadowing their right under your wings of war.
I give you welcome with a pow’rless hand,
But with a heart full of unftained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke, .

Lewis. A noble boy! who would not do the right?

Auft. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love ;
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers and the right thou haft in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her islanders ;
Ev'n till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure


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

Conft. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him ftrength,
To make a more requital to your love.
Auft. The peace of heav'n is theirs, who lift their

swords In such a just and charitable war. K. Philip. Well then, to work ; our engines shall

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

Const. Stay for an answer to your Embassie,
Left 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 hafte so indirectly Thed.

Enter Chatilion,
K. Pbilip. A wonder, lady! lo, upon thy with
Our messenger Chatilion is arrived ;
What England says, fay briefly, gentle lord,
We coldly paule for thee. Chatilion, speak.

Chat. Then turn your forces from this paulery liege
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,
Hath puç himself in arms; the adverse winds,
Whofe leisure I have staid, have giv'n him time
To land his legions all as soon as I.
His marches are expedient to this town,


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