As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge,
A soldier, by the honor-giving hand
Of Coeur-de-hion knighted in the field.
K. John. What art thou?
Rob. The son and heir to that same Faulcon-
bridge.
K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou the
heir?
You came not of one mother then, it seems.
Bast. Most certain of one mother, mighty king;
That is well known; and, as I think, one father:
But for the certain knowledge of that truth 61
I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother:
Of that I doubt, as all men's children may.
Eli. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame
thy mother,
And wound her honor with this diffidence.
Bast. I, madam? no, I have no reason for it;
That is my brother's plea and none of mine;
The which if he can prove, a' pops me out
At least from fair five hundred pounds a year:
Heaven guard my mother's honor and my land!
K. John. A good blunt fellow. Why, being
younger born,
Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?
Bast. I know not why, except to get the land.
But once he slander'd me with bastardy:
But whether I be as true begot or no,
That still I lay upon my mother's head,
But that I am as well begot, my liege.-
Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!--
Compare our faces and be judge yourself.
If old sir Robert did beget us both
And were our father and this son like him,
O old sir Robert, father, on my knee
I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee!
K. John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven
lent us here!
Eli. 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?
K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his
parts,
And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak, 90
What doth move you to claim your brother's land?
Bast. Because he hath a half-face, like my
father.
With half that face would he have all my land:
A half-faced groat five hundred pound a year!
Rob. My gracious liege, when that my father
lived,
Your brother did employ my father much,
Bast. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land:
Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother.
Rob. And once despatch'd him in an embassy
To Germany, there with the emperor
To treat of high affairs touching that time.
The advantage of his absence took the king
And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's;
Where how he did prevail I shame to speak,
But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and
shores
Between my father and my mother lay,
As I have heard my father speak himself,
When this same lusty gentleman was got.
Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd
His lands to me, and took it on his death
That this my mother's son was none of his;
And if he were, he came into the world
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time,
Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine,
My father's land, as was my father's will.
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him,
K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate;
And if she did play false, the fault was hers;
That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother,
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands
Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, 121
Had of your father claim'd this son for his?
In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept
In sooth he might; then, if he were my brother's,
This calf bred from his cow from all the world;
My brother might not claim him: nor your father,
My mother's son did get your father's heir;
Being none of his, refuse him: this concludes;
Your father's heir must have your father's land.
Rob. Shall then my father's will be of no
force
To dispossess that child which is not his?
Bast. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir,
Than was his will to get me, as I think.
Eli. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faul-
conbridge
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land,
Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion,
Lord of thy presence and no land beside?
Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
And I had his, sir Robert's his, like him;
And if my legs were two such riding-rods, 140
My arms such eel-skins stuff'd, my face so thin
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose
Lest men should say, 'Look where three-farthings
goes!'
And, to his shape, were heir to all this land,
Would I might never stir from off this place,
I would give it every foot to have this face:
I would not be sir Nob in any case.
Eli. 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.
Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll take
Your face hath got five hundred pound a year,
my chance.
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.
Yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear.
Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me
thither.
Bast. Our country manners give our betters way.
K. John. What is thy name?
Philip, good old sír Robert's wife's eldest son.
Bast. Philip, my liege, so is my name begun;
K. John. From henceforth bear his name
whose form thou bear'st:
Kneel thou down, Philip, but rise more great,
Arise sir Richard and Plantagenet.
Bast. Brother by the mother's side, give me
your hand:
My father gave me honor, yours gave land.
Now blessed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, sir Robert was away!
Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet!
I am thy grandam, Richard; call me so.
Bast. Madam, by chance but not by truth:
what though?
Something about, a little from the right,
In at the window, or else o'er the hatch: Who dares not stir by day must walk by night, And have is have, however men do catch: Near or far off, well won is still well shot, And I am I, howe'er I was begot.
K. John, Go, Faulconbridge: now hast thou thy desire;
A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must speed
For France, for France, for it is more than need. Bast. Brother, adieu: good fortune come to thee! 180
For thou wast got i' the way of honesty.
[Exeunt all but Bastard.
A foot of honor better than I was;
But many a many foot of land the worse.
Well, now can I make any Joan a lady.
'Good den, sir Richard! God-a-mercy, fel-
low!'-
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter;
For new-made honor doth forget men's names;
'Tis too respective and too sociable
For your conversion. Now your traveller,
He and his toothpick at my worship's mess, 190
And when my knightly stomach is sufficed,
Why then I suck my teeth and catechise
My picked man of countries: My dear sir,'
Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,
'I shall beseech you'-that is question now;
And then comes answer like an Absey book:
'O sir,' says answer, at your best command;
At your employment; at your service, sir:'
'No, sir,' says question, 'I, sweet sir, at yours:'
And so, ere answer knows what question would,
Saving in dialogue of compliment,
And talking of the Alps and Apennines,
The Pyrenean and the river Po,
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It draws toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipful society,
And fits the mounting spirit like myself,
For he is but a bastard to the time
That doth not smack of observation;
And so am I, whether I smack or no
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement.
But from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth.
Which, though I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn;
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising.
But who comes in such haste in riding-robes?
What woman-post is this? hath she no husband
That will take pains to blow a horn before her?
Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE and JAMES
GURNEY.
O me! it is my mother. How now, good lady! What brings you here to court so hastily? 221 Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother? where is he,
That holds in chase mine honor up and down? Bast. My brother Robert? old sir Robert's
Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man?
Is it sir Robert's son that you seek so?
Lady F. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy,
Philip! sparrow: James, There's toys abroad: anon I'll tell thee more. [Exit Gurney.
Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son:
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
Upon Good Friday and ne'er broke his fast:
Sir Robert could do well: marry, to confess,
Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it:
We know his handiwork: therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholding for these limbs?
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg.
Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,
That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honor?
What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?
Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, Basiliscolike.
What! I am dubb'd! I have it on my shoulder.
But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son:
I have disclaim'd sir Robert and my land;
Legitimation, name, and all is gone:
Then, good my mother, let me know my
Some proper man, I hope: who was it, mother?
Lady F. Hast thou denied thyself a Faul-
conbridge?
Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil.
Lady F. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was
thy father:
By long and vehement suit I was seduced
To make room for him in my husband's bed:
Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge!
Thou art the issue of my dear offence,
Which was so strongly urged past my defence.
Bast. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not wish a better father. 260
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth,
And so doth yours; your fault was not your folly:
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,
Subjected tribute to commanding love,
Against whose fury and unmatched force
The aweless lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
He that perforce robs lions of their hearts
May casily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, With all my heart I thank thee for my father! 270 Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin;
And they shall say, when Richard me begot, If thou hadst said hím nay, it had been sin: Who says it was, he lies; I say 'twas not. [Exeunt.
SCENE I. France. Before Angiers. Enter AUSTRIA and forces, drums, etc., on one side: on the other KING PHILIP of France and his power; LEWIS, ARTHUR, CONSTANCE and Attendants.
Lew. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria. ¦ Arthur, that great forerunner 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 colors, 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 Coeur-de-lion's
death
The rather that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war:
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart fell of unstained love;
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke.
Lew. 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-faced shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides
And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedged in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Even till that utmost 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!
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 humors 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,
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits
To make a hazard of new fortunes here:
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scath in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums
To parley or to fight; therefore prepare.
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,
K. Phi. How much unlook'd for is this ex-
pedition!
Aust. By how much unexpected, by so much
For courage mounteth with occasion:
We must awake endeavor for defence;
Let them be welcome then; we are prepared.
Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, BLANCH, the
Bastard, Lords, and forces.
K. John. Peace be to France, if France in
peace permit
If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven,
Our just and lineal entrance to our own;
Their proud contempt that beats His peace to
Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct
heaven.
K. Phi. Peace be to England, if that war
From France to England, there to live in peace.
Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs that lift England we love; and for that England's sake 91
In such a just and charitable war.
K. Phi. Well then, to work: our cannon 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 Frenchmen's blood,
But we will make it subject to this boy.
Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood:
My Lord Chatillon 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.
K. Phi. A wonder, lady! lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arrived!
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak.
Chat. 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,
With burden of our armor here we sweat.
This toil of ours should be a work of thine;
But thou from loving England art so far.
That thou has 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.
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face; [his:
Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time
This little abstract doth contain that large 101
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,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great
commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles?
K. Phi. From that supernal judge, that stirs
good thoughts
In any breast of strong authority,
To look into the blots and stains of right:
That judge hath made me guardian to this boy:
And by whose help I mean to chastise it.
Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong,
K. John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
K. Phi. Excuse: it is to beat usurping down.
Eli. Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?
Const. Let me make answer; thy usurping son,
Eli. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king, That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world!
Const. My bed was ever to thy son as true As thine was to thy husband: and this boy Liker in feature to his father Geffrey Than thou and John in manners; being as like As rain to water, or devil to his dam. My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think His father never was so true begot: It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. Eli. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.
Const. There's a good grandam, boy, that
would blot thee.
Aust. Peace!
Bast.
Aust. What the devil art thou? Bast. One that will play the devil, sir, with you, An a' may catch your hide and you alone: You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, Whose valor plucks dead lions by the beard: I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right; Sirrah, look to't; i' faith, I will, i' faith. 140 Blanch. O, well did he become that lion's robe That did disrobe the lion of that robe!
Bast. It lies as sightly on the back of him As great Alcides' shows upon an ass; But, ass, I'll take that burthen from your back, Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. Aust. What cracker is this same that deafs
That he is not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague
On this removed issue, plagued for her
And with her plague; her sin his injury,
Her injury the beadle to her sin,
All punish'd in the person of this child,
And all for her; a plague upon her!
Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce A will that bars the title of thy son. Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked will;
A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will!
K. Phi. Peace, lady! pause, or be more
temperate :
It ill beseems this presence to cry aim
To these ill-tuned repetitions.
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak
Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's 200
Trumpet sounds. Enter certain Citizens
upon the walls.
First Cit. Who is it that hath warn'd us to
the walls?
K. Phi. 'Tis France, for England.
K. John.
England for itself. You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects,K. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects,
Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle-
K. John. For our advantage; therefore hear
us first.
These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither marched to your endamagement:
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, 210
And ready mounted are they to spit forth
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls:
All preparation for a bloody siege
And merciless proceeding by these French
Confronts your city's eyes, your winking gates;
And but for our approach those sleeping stones,
That as a waist doth girdle you about,
By the compulsion of their ordinance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited and wide havoc made 225
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But on the sight of us your lawful king,
Who painfully with much expedient march
Have brought a countercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks
Behold, the French amazed vouchsafe a parle;
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke,
To make a faithless error in your ears:
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in, your king, whose labor'd spirits,
And king o'er him and all that he enjoys:
For this down-trodden equity we tread
In warlike march these greens before your town,
Being no further enemy to you
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal
In the relief of this oppressed child
Religiously provokes. Be pleased then
To pay that duty which you truly owe
To him that owes it, namely this young prince:
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in aspect, hath all offence seal'd up;
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And with a blessed and unvex'd retire,
With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruised,
We will bear home that lusty blood again
Which here we came to spout against your town,
And leave your children, wives and you in peace.
But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,
'Tis not the roundure of your old-faced walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war, 260
Though all these English and their discipline
Were harbor'd in their rude circumference.
Then tell us, shall your city cali us lord,
In that behalf which we have challenged it?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage
And stalk in blood to our possession?
First Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's subjects:
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and
First Cit. That can we not; but he that proves the king,
270 To him will we prove loyal: till that time Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world. K. John, Doth not the crown of England prove the king?
And if not that, I bring you witnesses,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's
Teach us some fence! [To Aust.] Sirrah, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah, with your lioness,
I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide,
And make a monster of you.
Aust.
Peace! no more.
Bast. O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar.
K. John. Up higher to the plain; where'll
set forth
In best appointment all our regiments.
Bast. Speed then, to take advantage of the field.
K. Phi. It shall be so; and at the other hill Command the rest to stand. God and our right! [Exeunt.
Here after excursions, enter the Herald of France, with trumpets, to the gates.
F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide
your gates, And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in. Who by the hand of France this day hath made Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground;
Coldly embracing the discolor'd earth;
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
And victory, with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd,
To enter conquerors and to proclaim
Arthur of Bretagne England's king and yours.
Enter English Herald, with trumpet.
E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring
King John, your king and England's, doth ap-
your bells;
[proach,
Commander of this hot malicious day:
Their armors, that march'd hence so silver bright,
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood;
There stuck no plume in any English crest
That is removed by a staff of France;
Our coiors do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march'd
forth;
320
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Open your gates and give the victors way.
Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes:
First Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we
might behold,
From first to last, the onset and retire
Of both your armies; whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured:
Blood hath bought blood and blows have an-
swer'd blows:
Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power: 330
Both are alike: and both alike we like.
One must prove greatest: while they weigh so
We hold our town for neither, yet for both. Re-enter the two KINGS, with their powers, severally.
K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?
Say, shall the current of our right run on? Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell
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