King John by William Shakespeare (recommended reading .TXT) 📕

that is question now;
And then comes answer like an ABC-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 FALCONBRIDGE, and JAMES GURNEY.]

O me, 'tis my mother! - w now, good lady!
What brings you here to court so hastily?

LADY FALCONBRIDGE.
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 FalcoNBRIDGE.
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 not 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 FALCONBRIDGE.
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 FalcoNBRIDGE.
Hast thou denied thyself a Falconbridge?

BASTARD.
As faithfully as I deny the devil.

LADY FALCONBRIDGE.
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.]


ACT II.

SCENE 1. France. Before the walls of Angiers.

[Enter, on one side, the ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA and Forces; on the
other, PHILIP, King of France, LOUIS, 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.

LOUIS.
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, -
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.

CONSTANCE.
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!

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

KING PHILIP.
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.

CONSTANCE.
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.

KING PHILIP.
A wonder, lady! - lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd.

[Enter CHATILLON.]

What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak.

CHATILLON.
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 Ate, stirring him to blood and strife;
With her her neice, the Lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd:
And all the 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 scathe in Christendom.

[Drums beat within.]

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

KING PHILIP.
How much unlook'd-for is this expedition!

AUSTRIA.
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,
PEMBROKE, Lords, and Forces.]

KING JOHN.
Peace be to France, if France in peace permit
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!

KING PHILIP.
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'er-masterest?

KING JOHN.
From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles?

KING PHILIP.
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:
Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong;
And by whose help I mean to chastise it.

KING JOHN.
Alack, thou dost usurp authority.

KING PHILIP.
Excus, - it is to beat usurping down.

ELINOR.
Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?

CONSTANCE.
Let me make answer; - thy usurping son.

ELINOR.
Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king,
That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world!

CONSTANCE.
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.

ELINOR.
There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.

CONSTANCE.
There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee.

AUSTRIA.
Peace!

BASTARD.
Hear the crier.

AUSTRIA.
What the devil art thou?

BASTARD.
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!

BASTARD.
It lies as sightly on the back of him
As great Alcides' shows upon an ass: -
But, ass, I'll take that burden from