Speeches (Lines) for Queen Elinor
in "King John"
Total: 22

1

I,1,7

A strange beginning: 'borrow'd majesty!'

2

I,1,34

What now, my son! have I not ever said
How that ambitious Constance would not cease
Till she had kindled France and all the world,
Upon the right and party of her son?
This might have been prevented and made whole
With very easy arguments of love,
Which now the manage of two kingdoms must
With fearful bloody issue arbitrate.

3

I,1,43

Your strong possession much more than your right,
Or else it must go wrong with you and me:
So much my conscience whispers in your ear,
Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear.

4

I,1,70

Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame thy mother
And wound her honour with this diffidence.

5

I,1,91

He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face;
The accent of his tongue affecteth him.
Do you not read some tokens of my son
In the large composition of this man?

6

I,1,140

Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land,
Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion,
Lord of thy presence and no land beside?

7

I,1,154

I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune,
Bequeath thy land to him and follow me?
I am a soldier and now bound to France.

8

I,1,161

Nay, I would have you go before me thither.

9

I,1,173

The very spirit of Plantagenet!
I am thy grandam, Richard; call me so.

10

II,1,414

Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?

11

II,1,416

Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king,
That thou mayst be a queen, and cheque the world!

12

II,1,426

There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.

13

II,1,456

Come to thy grandam, child.

14

II,1,464

His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.

15

II,1,471

Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!

16

II,1,490

Thou unadvised scold, I can produce
A will that bars the title of thy son.

17

II,1,780

Son, list to this conjunction, make this match;
Give with our niece a dowry large enough:
For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie
Thy now unsured assurance to the crown,
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.
I see a yielding in the looks of France;
Mark, how they whisper: urge them while their souls
Are capable of this ambition,
Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath
Of soft petitions, pity and remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.

18

III,1,1118

Look'st thou pale, France? do not let go thy hand.

19

III,1,1250

O foul revolt of French inconstancy!

20

III,3,1316

Farewell, gentle cousin.

21

III,3,1319

Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word.

22

III,3,1377

My blessing go with thee!