upon thy wish, Our messenger Chatillon is arrived! What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak. Then turn your forces from this paltry 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 stay'd, have given 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 Ate, stirring him to blood and strife; With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain; With them a bastard of the king's deceased, And all the unsettled humours of the land, Rash, inconsiderate, 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 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 prepare. 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 occasion: Let them be welcome then: we are prepared. 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 thine; 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. Look 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 volume. That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, And this his son; England was Geffrey's right And this is Geffrey's: in the name of God How comes it then that thou art call'd a king,