Mo. What head-strong furie doth enchant my fonne ?
Philip. Philip cannot repent, for he hath done.
Iohn. Then Philip blame not me, thy felfe haft loft
By wilfulnesse, thy liuing and thy land.
Robert, thou art the heire of Fauconbridge,
God giue thee ioy, greater than thy defert.
2. Elia. Why how now Philip, giue away thine owne? Ph. Madame, I am bold to make my felf your nephew, The poorest kinfman that your highneffe hath:
And with this prouerb gin the world anew,
Help hands, I haue no lands, honor is my defire;
Let Philip liue to fhew himselfe worthy fo great a fire.
Eli. Philip, I think thou knewst thy grandams minde:
But cheere thee boy, I will not fee thee want
As long as Elinor hath foote of land;
Henceforth thou shalt be taken for my fonne,
And waite on me and on thine vncle heere,
Who fhall giue honour to thy noble mind.
John. Philip kneele downe, that thou maist throughly How much thy refolution pleaseth vs,
Rife vp fir Richard Plantaginet king Richards fonnc.
Philip. Grant heauens that Philip once may fhew himselfe Worthy the honour of Plantaginet,
Or basest glorie of a bastards name.
John. Now gentlemen, we will away to France,
To checke the pride of Arthur and his mates:
Effex, thou shalt be ruler of my realme,
And toward the maine charges of my warres,
Ile ceaze the lafie abbey lubbers lands
Into my hands to pay my men of warre.
The pope and popelings fhall not grease themfelues
With gold and groates, that are the fouldiers due,
Thus forward lords, let our commaund be done,
And march we forward mightily to France.
Manet Philip and his Mother. Philip. Madame, I beseech you deigne me fo much leasure as the hearing of a matter that I lōg to impart to you.
Mother. What's the matter Philip? I thinke your fuit in fecret, tends to fome money matter, which you suppose burnes in the bottome of my chest.
Phil. No madam, it is no fuch fuit as to beg or borrow,
But fuch a fuit, as might fome other grant,
I would not now haue troubled you withall.
Mother. A gods name let vs heare it.
Phil. Then madam thus, your ladifhip fees well,
How that my scandall growes by meanes of you,
In that report hath rumord vp and downe,
I am a bastard, and no Fauconbridge.
This groffe attaint fo tilteth in my thoughts,
Maintaining combat to abridge mine ease,
That field and towne, and company alone,
What fo I doe, or wherefoere I am,
I cannot chafe the flaunder from my thoughts.
If it be true, refolue me of my fire,
For pardon madam, if I thinke amiffe.
Be Philip Philip, and no Fauconbridge,
His father doubtleffe was as braue a man.
To you on knees, as fometime Phaeton,
Miftrusting fielly Merop for his fire,
Straining a little bafhfull modeftie,
I beg fome inftance whence I am extraught.
Moth. Yet more adoe to hafte me to my graue, And wilt thou too become a mothers crosse? Muft I accufe my felfe to close with you? Slaunder my felfe, to quiet your affects ?
Thou moou'st me Philip with this idle talke,
Which I remit, in hope this mood will die.
Phil. Nay lady mother, heare me further yet,
For ftrong conceit driues dutie hence awhile:
Your husband Fauconbridge was father to that fonne,
That carries markes of nature like the fire,
The fonne that blotteth you with wedlockes breach,
And holds my right, as lineall in defcent
From him whofe forme was figured in his face.
Can nature so diffemble in her frame,
To make the one fo like as like may be,
And in the other print no character
To challenge any marke of true defcent?
My brothers mind is base, and too too dull,
To mount where Philip lodgeth his affects,
And his externall graces that you viewe,
(Though I report it) counterpoise not mine:
His conftitution plaine debilitie,
Requires the chaire, and mine the feat of steele.
Nay, what is he, or what am I to him?
When any one that knoweth how to carpe,
Will fcarcely iudge vs both one countrey borne.
This madam, this, hath droue me from my felfe:
And here by heauens eternall lampes I fweare,
As curfed Nero with his mother did,
So I with you, if you refolue me not.
Moth. Let mothers teares quench out thy angers fire, And vrge no further what thou doeft require.
Phil. Let fonnes intreatie fway the mother now,
Or else fhee dies: Ile not infringe my vow.
Moth. Vnhappy taske: must I recount my shame,
Blab my mifdeeds, or by concealing die?
Some power strike me fpeechleffe for a time,
Or take from him a while his hearings vfe.
Why with I fo, vnhappy as I am?
The fault is mine, and he the faultie fruit,
I blush, I faint, oh would I might be mute.
Phil. Mother be briefe, I long to know my name. Moth. And longing die, to shroud thy mothers fhame. Phil. Come madame come, you need not be so loath, The fhame is shared equall twixt vs both. Ift not a flackeneffe in me, worthy blame, To be fo old, and cannot write my name. Good mother refolue me.
Moth. Then Philip heare thy fortune, and my griefe, My honours loffe by purchasse of thy felfe, My fhame, thy name, and husbands fecret wrong, All maimd and staind by youths vnruly fway.
And when thou know'st from whence thou art extraught, Or if thou knew'ft what fuites, what threats, what feares,
To mooue by loue, or maffacre by death.
To yeeld with loue, or end by loues contempt.
The mightineffe of him that courted me,
Who tempered terror with his wanton talke,
That something may extenuate the guilt.
But let it not aduantage me fo much :
Vpbraid me rather with the Romane dame,
That shed her blood to wash away her shame.
Why stand I to expoftulate the crime
With pro & contra, now the deed is done?
When to conclude two words may tell the tale,
That Philips father was a princes fonne,
Rich Englands rule, worlds onely terror he,
For honours loffe left me with child of thee:
Whose fonne thou art, then pardon me the rather,
For faire king Richard was thy noble father.
Phil. Then Robin Fauconbridge I wish thee ioy,
My fire a king, and I a landlesse boy.
Gods lady mother, the world is in my debt,
There's fomething owing to Plantaginet.
I marry fir, let me alone for game,
Ile act fome wonders now I know my name.
By blessed Mary Ile not fell that pride
For Englands wealth, and all the world befide.
Sit faft the proudest of my fathers foes,
Away good mother, there the comfort goes.
Enter Philip the French king, and Lewis, Limoges, Conftance, and her fonne Arthur.
King. Now gin we broach the title of thy claime,
Young Arthur in the Albion territories,
Skaring proud Angiers with a puissant siege :
Braue Auftria, caufe of Cordelions death,
Is alfo come to aide thee in thy warres;
And all our forces ioyne for Arthurs right.
And, but for caufes of great confequence,
Pleading delay till newes from England come,
Twice should not Titan hide him in the west,
To coole the fet-locks of his wearie teame,
Till I had with an vnrefifted fhocke
Controld the mannage of prowd Angiers walls,
Or made a forfet of my fame to chaunce.
Conft. May be that John in confcience or in feare
To offer wrong where you impugne the ill,
Will fend fuch calme conditions backe to Fraunce,
As shall rebate the edge of fearefull warres :
If fo, forbearance is a deed well donc.
Arth. Ah mother, poffeffion of a crowne is much, And lohn as I haue heard reported of,
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