A Room of State in the Palace. |
|
Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBURY, and Others, with CHATILLON. |
K. John. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us? |
Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France, |
In my behaviour, to the majesty, |
The borrow'd majesty of England here. |
Eli. A strange beginning; 'borrow'd majesty!' |
K. John. Silence, good mother; hear the embassy. |
Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalf |
Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, |
Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim |
To this fair island and the territories, |
To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine; |
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword |
Which sways usurpingly these several titles, |
And put the same into young Arthur's hand, |
Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. |
K. John. What follows if we disallow of this? |
Chat. The proud control of fierce and bloody war, |
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. |
K. John. Here have we war for war, and blood for blood, |
Controlment for controlment: so answer France. |
Chat. Then take my king's defiance from my mouth, |
The furthest limit of my embassy. |
K. John. Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace: |
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; |
For ere thou canst report I will be there, |
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard. |
So, hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath |
And sullen presage of your own decay. |
An honourable conduct let him have: |
Pembroke, look to't. Farewell, Chatillon. [Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE. |
Eli. 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. |
K. John. Our strong possession and our right for us. |
Eli. 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. |
|
Enter a Sheriff, who whispers ESSEX. |
Essex. My liege, here is the strangest controversy, |
Come from the country to be judg'd by you, |
That e'er I heard: shall I produce the men? |
K. John. Let them approach. [Exit Sheriff. |
Our abbeys and our priories shall pay |
This expedition's charge. |
|
Re-enter Sheriff, with ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE and PHILIP, his Bastard Brother. |
What men are you? |
Bast. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman |
Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son, |
As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, |
A soldier, by the honour-giving hand |
Of Cœur-de-Lion knighted in the field. |
K. John. What art thou? |
Rob. The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge. |
K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? |
You came not of one mother than, 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 |
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 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 Cœur-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 half that 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 dispatch'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; |
An 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. Whe'r hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge |
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, |
Or the reputed son of Cœur-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. |
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 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! |
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, fellow!' |
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 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? |
|
Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE and JAMES GURNEY. |
O me! it is my mother. How now, good lady! |
What brings you here to court so hastily? |
Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother? where is he, |
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? |
Lady F. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy, |
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 while? |
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 |
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 honour? |
What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? |
Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco-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 Faulconbridge? |
Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil. |
Lady F. King Richard Cœur-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, |
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. |
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