Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother 7 where is he,"

Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year;
Yet sell your face for five pence, and 'tis dear.-
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.

Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me
thither.

Bast. Our country manners give our betters

way.

K. John. What is thy name?

Bast. Philip, my liege; so is my name begun;
Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son.
K. John. From henceforth bear his naine whose
form thou bear'st:

Kneel thou down, Philip, but arise more great:
Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

Bast. Brother, by the mother's side, give me
your hand;

My father gave me honour, 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 grandame, 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!

For thou wast got i' the way of honesty.
[Exeunt all but the Bastard.
A foot of honour 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 honour 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;
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd,
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise
My picked man of countries:-My dear sir,
(Thus, leaning on my elbow, I begin,)
I shall beseech you-That is question now;
And then comes answer like an A B C-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,)
It draws towards 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?
That woman-post is this? hath she no husband,
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 7
What brings you here to court so hastily?

son?

That holds in chase mine honour 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 unreve-
rend boy,

Sir Robert's son! Why scorn'st thou at Sir Ro-
bert ?

He is Sir Robert's son; and so art thou.
Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave
awhile?

Gur. Good leave, good Philip.

Bast.
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
Sir Robert could do well: Marry, (to confess!)
Upon Good Friday, and ne'er broke his fast:
Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it;
We know his handy-work :-Therefore, good
To whom am I beholden for these limbs?
mother,
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg.
Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother
100,

That for thine own gain should'st defend mine
honour ?

What means this scorn, thou most untoward

knave?

Bast. Knight, knight, good mother,-Basilis-
co-like:

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 father;
Some proper man, I hope; Who was it, mother?
Lady F Hast thou denied thyself a Faulcon-
bridge?

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 seduc'd
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 urg'd, past my defence.
Bast. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not wish a better father.
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,-
Against whose fury and unmatched force
Subjected tribute to commanding love,-
The awless lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
He, that perforce robs iions of their hearts,
May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother,
With all my heart I thank thee for my father!
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 him nay, it had been sin
Who says it was, he lies; I say, 'twas not.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.
SCENE I. France. Before the Walls of Angiers.
Enter on one side, the Archduke of Anatria,
and Forces; on the other, Philip, King of
France, and Forces; Lewis, Constance, Arthur,
and Attendants.

Lew. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,

1

Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift Which died in Geffrey; and the hand of time

Trumpets sound. Enter Citizens upon the
Walls.

Whose valour 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.
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' shoes upon an ass :-
But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back;
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.
Aust. What cracker is this same, that deafs

our ears

With this abundance of superfluous breath?
K. Phi. Lewis, determine what we shall do
straight.

Lew. Women and fools, break off your con-
ference.-

King John, this is the very sum of all,-
England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee:
Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms?
K. John. My life as soon:-I do defy thee,
France.

Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand;
And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee more
Than e'er the coward hand of France can
win:

Submit thee, boy.
Eli.

Come to thy grandam, child.
Const. Do, child, go to it' grandam, child;
Give grandam kingdom, and it' grandam will
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig:
There's a good grandam.

Arth.

Good my mother, peace!
I would, that I were low laid in my grave;
I am not worth this coil that's made for me.
Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he
weeps.

Const. Now shame upon you, whe'r she does

or no!

His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames,

Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor
eyes,

Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee;
Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be

brib'd

To do him justice, and revenge on you.
Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and

earth!

Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and
earth!

Call not me slanderer; thou, and thine, usurp
The dominations, royalties, and rights,

Of this oppressed boy: This is thy eldest son's

son,

Infortunate in nothing but in thee;
Thy sins are visited in this poor child;
The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the second generation
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.
K. John. Bedlam, have done.
Const.

I have but this to say,-
That he's not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague
On this removed issue, plagu'd 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 tem-
perate:

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.

1 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
Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle.
subjects,
K. John. For our advantage;-Therefore, hear

us first.

Before the eye and prospect of your town,
These flags of France, that are advanced here
Have hither march'd to your endamagement:
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath;
And ready mounted are they, to spit forth
All preparation for a bloody siege
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls:
Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates;
And merciless proceeding by these French,
And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
That as a waist do girdle yon about,
By the compulsion of their ordnance
Had been dishabited; and wide havock made
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
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, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle :
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
To make a faithless error in your ears:
They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke,
And let us in, your king; whose labour'd spirits,
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
Crave harbourage within your city walls.
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,
K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us
both.

Lo, in this right hand, whose protection
Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet;
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right
Son to the elder brother of this man,
For this down trodden equity, we tread
And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys:
Being no further enemy to you,
In warlike march these greens before your town,

Than the constraint of hospitable zeal,
In the relief of this oppressed child,
To pay that duty, which you truly owe,
Religiously provokes. Be pleased then
To him that owes it; namely, this young prince
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in aspect, have 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 un.
bruis'd,

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-fac'd walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war;
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
Though all these English and their discipline,
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord,
Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it?
And stalk in blood to our possession?

1 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 let

me in.

Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold,

to arms!

Bast. St. George,-that swing'd the dragon,
and e'er since,

Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door,
Teach us some fence :-Sirrah, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah, [To Austria,] with your
lioness,

I'd 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 we'll
set forth,

In best appointment, all our regiments.
Bast. Speed then, to take advantage of the
field.

K. Phi. It shall be so;-[To Lewis] and at
the other hill

Command the rest to stand.-God, right!

and our [Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same.
Alarums and Excursions; then a Retreat.
Enter a French Herald, 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 scatter'd on the bleeding ground;
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth;
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

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:

Both are alike; and both alike we like.
One must prove greatest; while they weigh so

even,

We hold our town for neither; yet for both.

Enter, at one side, King John, with his Power;
Elinor, Blanch, and the Bastard; at the other,
King Philip, Lewis, Austria, and Forces.

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
With course disturb'd even thy confining shores;
Unless thou let his silver water keep
A peaceful progress to the ocean.

K. Phi. England, thou hast not sav'd one
drop of blood,

In this hot trial, more than we of France;
Rather, lost more: And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,-
Before we will lay down our just borne arms,
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms
we bear,
Or add a royal number to the dead;

Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss,
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.
Bast. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel.
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs;
And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,
In undetermin'd differences of kings.-
Why stand these royal fronts amaz'd thus ?
Cry, havock, kings! back to the stained field,
You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and

death

K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ?

K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England; who's your king?

1 Cit. The king of England, when we know the king.

K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up
his right.

K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here;
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of yon.
1 Cit. A greater power than we, denies all this;
And, till it be undoubted, we do lock

Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates:
yours.King'd of our fears; until our fears resolv'd,
Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd.
Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers

Enter an English Herald, with trumpets. E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells;

King John, your king and England's, doth ap-
proach,

Commander of this hot malicious day!
Their armours, 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 colours do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march'd
forth;

And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes:
Open your gates, and give the victors way.

flout you, kings;

And stand securely on their battlements,
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be rul'd by me;
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,

Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town:
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths:
Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd

down

The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city:
I'd play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfenced desolation

Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, dissever your united strengths,