Lewis.
Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur! that great fore-runner 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 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 John.
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.

Arth.
God shall forgive you Cœur-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 unstained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.

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

Aust.
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 hast 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.

Const.
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.

Aust.
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,
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 shed. Enter Chatilion.

K. Philip.
A wonder, lady! lo, upon thy wish
Our messenger Chatilion is arrived;
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord,
We coldly pause for thee. Chatilion, speak.

Chat.
Then turn your forces from this paultry siege,
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms; the adverse winds,
Whose 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,

His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-Queen;
An Até, stirring him to blood and strife.
With her, her neice, the lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the King deceas'd,
And all th' unsettled humours of the land;
Rash, inconsid'rate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scathe in christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums [Drums beat.
Cuts off more circumstance; they are at hand.
To parly, or to fight, therefore prepare.

K. Philip.
How much unlook'd for is this expedition!

Aust.
By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence;
For courage mounteth with occasion:
Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd.

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