The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

Heaven guard my mother’s honour and my land!

KING JOHN. A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger born, Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?

BASTARD. I know not why, except to get the land.

But once he slander’d me with bastardy; But whe’er 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 himO old Sir Robert, father, on my knee

I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee!

KING JOHN. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here!

ELINOR. 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?

KING 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?

BASTARD. 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!

ROBERT. My gracious liege, when that my father liv’d, Your brother did employ my father much-BASTARD. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land: Your tale must be how he employ’d my mother.

ROBERT. And once dispatch’d him in an embassy To Germany, there with the Emperor

To treat of high affairs touching that time.

Th’ advantage of his absence took the King, And in the meantime 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 deathbed 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.

KING 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.

ROBERT. Shall then my father’s will be of no force To dispossess that child which is not his?

BASTARD. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, Than was his will to get me, as I think.

ELINOR. 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?

BASTARD. 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, 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.

ELINOR. 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.

BASTARD. Brother, take you my land, I’ll take my chance.

Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, Yet sell your face for fivepence and ‘tis dear.

Madam, I’ll follow you unto the death.

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

BASTARD. Our country manners give our betters way.

KING JOHN. What is thy name?

BASTARD. Philip, my liege, so is my name begun: Philip, good old Sir Robert’s wife’s eldest son.

KING JOHN. From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bearest: Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great-Arise Sir Richard and Plantagenet.

BASTARD. Brother by th’ 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!

ELINOR. The very spirit of Plantagenet!

I am thy grandam, Richard: call me so.

BASTARD. 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.

KING 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.

BASTARD. Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee!

For thou wast got i’ th’ 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, ‘tis my mother! How now, good lady!

What brings you here to court so hastily?

LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Where is that slave, thy brother?

Where is he

That holds in chase mine honour up and down?

BASTARD. 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 FAULCONBRIDGE. 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.

BASTARD. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile?

GURNEY. Good leave, good Philip.

BASTARD. 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 FAULCONBRIDGE. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour?

What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?

BASTARD. 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 FAULCONBRIDGE. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?

BASTARD. As faithfully as I deny the devil.

LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. 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.

BASTARD. 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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ACT II. SCENE 1

France. Before Angiers

Enter, on one side, AUSTRIA and forces; on the other, KING PHILIP OF FRANCE, LEWIS the Dauphin, CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and forces KING PHILIP. 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.

ARTHUR. 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 unstained love; Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.

KING PHILIP. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?

AUSTRIA. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss As seal to this indenture of my love: