Eli. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame thy mother,

And wound her honour 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 pound a-year: Heaven guard my mother's honour, 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 whe'r 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,
What doth move you to claim your brother's land?
Bast. Because he hath a half-face, like my father,
With that half-face would he have all my land:
A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a-year!

Rob. My gracious liege, when that my father liv'd, 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.

K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate,-Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him; And if she did play false, the fault was hers; Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, Had of your father claim'd this son for his? In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world; In sooth, he might: then, if he were my brother's, My brother might not claim him; nor your father, Being none of his, refuse him: this concludes,— My mother's son did get your father's heir; 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 FaulconAnd like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, [bridge, 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 his, like him; And if my legs were two such riding-rods, 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'd 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 my
chance:

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 name whose form thou bearest:

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

Bast. Brother, by the mother's side, give me your 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 grandam, Richard; call me so.

Bast. Madam, by chance, but not by truth: what Something about, a little from the right, [though?

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.

[desire;

K. John. Go Faulconbridge: now hast thou thy 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.

Basi. Brother, adieu: good fortune come to thee! For thou wast got i' the way of honesty.

[Exeunt all except 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 tooth-pick at my worship's mess;
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd,
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechize
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,—

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?
O me! it is my mother.-

Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE and JAMES GURNEY.
How now, good lady!
What brings you nere to court so hastily? [is he,
Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother? where
That holds in chase mine honour up and down?
Bast. My brother Robert? old Sir Robert's son?
Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man?
Is it Sir Robert's son; that you seek so?

[boy,

Lady F. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend Sir Robert's son: why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert? He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou.

Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a
Gur. Good leave, good Philip.
[while?
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
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 handy-work:-therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholden for these limbs?
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg.

[too,

Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour?

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 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
By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd [father:

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,
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 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 AUSTRIA, 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,
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 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 full of unstainèd 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-fac'd shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, And coops from other lands her islanders,Even till that England, hedg'd 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!

Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift their In such a just and charitable war.

[swords

[bent

K. Phi. Well then, to work: our cannon shall be 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 unadvis'd 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.

Enter CHATILLON.

K. Phi. A wonder, lady!-lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger, Chatillon, is arriv'd.-
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,
An Até, stirring him to blood and strife;
With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd,
And all th' 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 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 scath in Christendom.

[Drums heard within. The interruption of their churlish drums Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand, To parley, or to fight; therefore, prepare.

K. Phi. 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. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, BLANCH, the Bastard, Lords, and forces.

[permit

K. John. Peace be to France, if France in peace 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.

K. Phi. 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, Outfaced 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,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great com-
mission, France,

To draw my answer from thy articles?

K. Phi. From that supernal Judge, that stirs good In any breast of strong authority, [thoughts

To look into the blots and stains of right.
That Judge hath made me guardian to this boy:
Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong;
And by whose help I mean to chastise it.

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
Const. There's a good grandam, boy, that would
blot thee.
Aust. Peace!
Bast.

Aust.

Hear the crier.

[father.

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 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 confer

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 is 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.

[ate:

Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will! [will; K. Phi. Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperIt 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.

Trumpet sounds. Enter Citizens upon the walls.

I 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
These flags of France, that are advanced here [first.
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement:
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath,
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,
Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates;
And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
That as a waist do girdle you about,
By the compulsion of their ordnance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime

Had been dishabited, and wide havock made
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,
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 labour'd spirits,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,
Crave harbourage within your city walls.

K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us both.
Lo, in this right hand, whose protection
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right
Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet,
Son to the elder brother of this man,

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 farther 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, have all offence seal'd up;
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And with a blessed and unvex'd retire,
With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'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,
Though all these English, and their discipline,
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession?

[jects:

[in.

1 Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's sub-
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and let me
I Cit. That can we not; but he that proves the king,
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 breed,——
Bast. Bastards, and else.

K. John. To verify our title with their lives.
K. Phi. As many, and as well-born bloods as
Bast. Some bastards, too.
[those,-

K. Phi. Stand in his face to contradict his claim. I Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest, We for the worthiest hold the right from both.

K. John. Then God forgive the sin of all those souls,

That to their everlasting residence,
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!

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 yours.

Enter an English Herald, with trumpets.

E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells;

King John, your king and England's, doth approach,
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,
Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes:
Open your gates, and give the victors way.

[hold

1 Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might beFrom 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 answer'd Strength match'd with strength, and power con

fronted power;

[blows;

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'er-swell 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
Or add a royal number to the dead,
[bear,
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 amazed thus?
Cry, havock, kings! back to the stainèd 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?

I 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 you.

I 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; 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 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,
And part your mingled colours once again;
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point;
Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion,
To whom in favour she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy?

[heads,

K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our I like it well.-France, shall we knit our powers,