A wonder, lady! lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arrived!
What England says, say briefly,
We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak.
Then turn your forces from this paltry siege
And stir them up against a mightier task.
of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms: the adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have stay'd, have
given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I;
His marches are expedient to this town,
strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-queen,
An Ate, stirring him to blood
With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king's deceased,
all the unsettled humours of the land,
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies' faces and fierce
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their
To make hazard of new fortunes here:
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits
Than now the
English bottoms have waft o'er
Did nearer float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scath in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,
To parley or to fight; therefore
How much unlook'd for is this expedition!
By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endavour for defence;
For courage mounteth with
Let them be welcome then: we are prepared.
Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, BLANCH, the BASTARD, Lords, and forces
Peace be to France, if France in peace permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own;
If not, bleed France,
and peace ascend to heaven,
Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct
Their proud contempt that
beats His peace to heaven.
Peace be to England, if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace.
England we love; and
for that England's sake
With burden of our armour here we sweat.
This toil of ours should be a work of
But thou from loving England art so far,
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king
Cut off the
sequence of posterity,
Out-faced infant state and done a rape
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.
here upon thy brother Geffrey's face;
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his:
This little abstract
doth contain that large
Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time
Shall draw this brief into as huge a
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born,
And this his son; England was Geffrey's right
is Geffrey's: in the name of God
How comes it then that thou art call'd a king,
When living blood doth in
these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest?
From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles?
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