Plays and Poems

Lords, Ladies, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers,
and other Attendants.

SCENE.-Sometimes in England, and sometimes in France.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A Room of State in the Palace. Enter King JOHN, Queen ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBURY, and Others, with CHA

TILLON.

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 em bassy.

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, Poietiers, 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.

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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;

Rob. The son and heir to that same Faulcon- Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands bridge.

K. John. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir?
You came not of one mother then, 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,

That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother,
Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, ın
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? 131
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 Faulconbridge

Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?

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

And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land,
Or the reputed son of Cœur-de-Lion,
Lord of thy presence and no land beside?

But once he slander'd me with bastardy:

Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,

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,

And I had his, Sir Robert his, like him;
And if my legs were two such riding-rods, 10
My arms such eel-skins stuff'd, my face so thin

Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me! That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose

Compare our faces and be judge yourself.

Lest men should say 'Look, where three

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.

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.

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'sland?
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:

Eli. I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy
fortune,

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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 pound 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 beforemethither.
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:

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

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

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

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 unreverent
boy,

Sir Robert's son: why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert?

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!

Ali. The very spirit of Plantagenet!

I am thy grandam, Richard: call me so.

Bast. Madam, by chance but not by truth; He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou. what though?

Something about, a little from the right,

In at the window, or else o'er the hatch:

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

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Gur. Good leave, good Philip. Bast.

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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,

240

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

What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?

Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, Basiliscolike.

For your conversion. Now your traveller,

bridge?

He and his toothpick at my worship's mess, 190 Legitimation, name, and all is gone.

'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

Lady F. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulcon

bric

251

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

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

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 Ate, 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 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 scath in Christendom.

Of thy unnatural uncle, English John.
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
Arth. God shall forgive you Cœur-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.

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, 30
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.

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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:

Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs that lift This toil of ours should be a work of thine;
their swords
But thou from loving England art so far
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king,

In such a just and charitable war.

K. Phi. Well then, to work: our cannon shall Cut off the sequence of posterity, 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.

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, 50 Our messenger, Chatillon, is arriv'd! What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak.

Out-faced 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 thon o'ermasterest K. John. From whom hast thou this great commission, France.

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110

To draw my answer from thy articles? K. Phi. From that supernal judge, that stirs good thoughts

Than thou and John in manners; being as like | Infortunate in nothing but in thee:

Of this oppressed boy: this is thy eld'st son's

Liker in feature to his father Geffrey

son,

As rain to water, or devil to his dam.

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.

180

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

Blanch. O! well did he become that lion's A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will! robe,

That did disrobe the lion of that robe.

K. Phi. Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate:

Bart. It lies as sightly on the back of him

As great Alcides' shows upon an ass:

It ill beseems this presence to cry aim To these ill-tuned repetitions.

Aust. What cracker is this same that deafs

But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back,

Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. | These men of Angiers: let us hear them speak

200

Some trumpet summon hither to the walls

our ears

Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. Trumpets sound. Enter Citizens upon the walls.

or no!

First 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 first.

These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement:
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, 210
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
Confronts your city's eyes, your winking gates;
And but for our approach those sleeping stones,
That as a waist doth girdle you about,
By the compulsion of their ordinance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But on the sight of us your lawful king,

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