228What woman post is this? hath she no husband

229That will take paines to blow a horne before her?

230O me, 'tis my mother: how now good Lady,

231What brings you heere to Court so hastily?

233Lady. Where is that slaue thy brother? where is he?

234That holds in chase mine honour vp and downe.

235Bast. My brother Robert, old Sir Roberts sonne:

236Colbrand the Gyant, that same mighty man,

237Is it Sir Roberts sonne that you seeke so?

238Lady. Sir Roberts sonne, I thou vnreuerend boy,

239Sir Roberts sonne? why scorn'st thou at sir Robert?

240He is Sir Roberts sonne, and so art thou.

241Bast. Iames Gournie, wilt thou giue vs leaue a while?

242Gour. Good leaue good Philip.

243Bast. Philip, sparrow, Iames,

244There's toyes abroad, anon Ile tell thee more.

246Madam, I was not old Sir Roberts sonne,

247Sir Robert might haue eat his part in me

248Vpon good Friday, and nere broke his fast:

249Sir Robert could doe well, marrie to confesse

250Could get me sir Robert could not doe it;

251We know his handy-worke, therefore good mother

252To whom am I beholding for these limmes?

253Sir Robert neuer holpe to make this legge.

254Lady. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,

255That for thine owne gaine shouldst defend mine honor?

256What meanes this scorne, thou most vntoward knaue?

257Bast. Knight, knight good mother, Basilisco-like:

258What, I am dub'd, I haue it on my shoulder:

259But mother, I am not Sir Roberts sonne,

260I haue disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land,

261Legitimation, name, and all is gone;

262Then good my mother, let me know my father,

263Some proper man I hope, who was it mother?

264Lady. Hast thou denied thy selfe a Faulconbridge?

265Bast. As faithfully as I denie the deuill.

266Lady. King Richard Cordelion was thy father,

267By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd

268To make roome for him in my husbands bed:

269Heauen lay not my transgression to my charge,

270That art the issue of my deere offence

271Which was so strongly vrg'd past my defence.

272Bast. Now by this light were I to get againe,

273Madam I would not wish a better father:

274Some sinnes doe beare their priuiledge on earth,

275And so doth yours: your fault, was not your follie,

276Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,

277Subiected tribute to commanding loue,

278Against whose furie and vnmatched force,

279The awlesse Lion could not wage the fight,

280Nor keepe his Princely heart from Richards hand:

281He that perforce robs Lions of their hearts,

282May easily winne a womans: aye my mother,

283With all my heart I thanke thee for my father:

284Who liues and dares but say, thou didst not well

285When I was got, Ile send his soule to hell.

286Come Lady I will shew thee to my kinne,

287And they shall say, when Richard me begot,

288If thou hadst sayd him nay, it had beene sinne;

289Who sayes it was, he lyes, I say twas not.

294Lewis. Before Angiers well met braue Austria,

295Arthur that great fore-runner of thy bloud,

296Richard that rob'd the Lion of his heart,

297And fought the holy Warres in Palestine,

298By this braue Duke came early to his graue:

299And for amends to his posteritie,

300At our importance hether is he come,

301To spread his colours boy, in thy behalfe,

302And to rebuke the vsurpation

303Of thy vnnaturall Vncle, English Iohn,

304Embrace him, loue him, giue him welcome hether.

305Arth. God shall forgiue you Cordelions death

306The rather, that you giue his off-spring life,

307Shadowing their right vnder your wings of warre:

308I giue you welcome with a powerlesse hand,

309But with a heart full of vnstained loue,

310Welcome before the gates of Angiers Duke.

311Lewis. A noble boy, who would not doe thee right?

312Aust. Vpon thy cheeke lay I this zelous kisse,

313As seale to this indenture of my loue:

314That to my home I will no more returne

315Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,

316Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,

317Whose foot spurnes backe the Oceans roaring tides,

318And coopes from other lands her Ilanders,

319Euen till that England hedg'd in with the maine,

320That Water-walled Bulwarke, still secure

321And confident from forreine purposes,

322Euen till that vtmost corner of the West

323Salute thee for her King, till then faire boy

324Will I not thinke of home, but follow Armes.

325Const. O take his mothers thanks, a widdows thanks,

326Till your strong hand shall helpe to giue him strength,

327To make a more requitaIl to your loue.

328Aust. The peace of heauen is theirs y^t lift their swords

329In such a iust and charitable warre.

330King. Well, then to worke our Cannon shall be bent

331Against the browes of this resisting towne,

332Call for our cheefest men of discipline,

333To cull the plots of best aduantages:

334Wee'll lay before this towne our Royal bones,

335Wade to the market-place in French-mens bloud,

336But we will make it subiect to this boy.

337Con. Stay for an answer to your Embassie,

338Lest vnaduis'd you staine your swords with bloud,

339My Lord Chattilion may from England bring

340That right in peace which heere we vrge in warre,

341And then we shall repent each drop of bloud,

342That hot rash haste so indirectly shedde.

344King. A wonder Lady: lo vpon thy wish

345Our Messenger Chattilion is arriu'd,

346What England saies, say breefely gentle Lord,

347We coldly pause for thee, Chatilion speake,

348Chat. Then turne your forces from this paltry siege,

349And stirre them vp against a mightier taske:

350England impatient of your iust demands,

351Hath put himselfe in Armes, the aduerse windes

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