Shakespeare's First Folio Part 257

Eli. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge, And like thy brother to enioy thy land: Or the reputed sonne of Cordelion, Lord of thy presence, and no land beside

Bast. Madam, and if my brother had my shape And I had his, sir Roberts his like him, And if my legs were two such riding rods, My armes, such eele skins stuft, my face so thin, That in mine eare I durst not sticke a rose, Lest men should say, looke where three farthings goes, And to his shape were heyre to all this land, Would I might neuer stirre from off this place, I would giue it euery foot to haue this face: It would not be sir n.o.bbe in any case

Elinor. I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune, Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?

I am a Souldier, and now bound to France

Bast. Brother, take you my land, Ile take my chance; Your face hath got fiue hundred pound a yeere, Yet sell your face for fiue pence and 'tis deere: Madam, Ile follow you vnto the death

Elinor. Nay, I would haue you go before me thither

Bast. Our Country manners giue our betters way

K.Iohn. What is thy name?

Bast. Philip my Liege, so is my name begun, Philip, good old Sir Roberts wiues eldest sonne

K.Iohn. From henceforth beare his name Whose forme thou bearest: Kneele thou downe Philip, but rise more great, Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet

Bast. Brother by th' mothers side, giue me your hand, My father gaue me honor, yours gaue land: Now blessed be the houre by night or day When I was got, Sir Robert was away

Ele. The very spirit of Plantaginet: I am thy grandame Richard, call me so

Bast. Madam by chance, but not by truth, what tho; Something about a little from the right, In at the window, or else ore the hatch: Who dares not stirre by day, must walke by night, And haue is haue, how euer men doe catch: Neere or farre off, well wonne is still well shot, And I am I, how ere I was begot

K.Iohn. Goe, Faulconbridge, now hast thou thy desire, A landlesse Knight, makes thee a landed Squire: Come Madam, and come Richard, we must speed For France, for France, for it is more then need

Bast. Brother adieu, good fortune come to thee, For thou wast got i'th way of honesty.

Exeunt. all but b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Bast. A foot of Honor better then I was, But many a many foot of Land the worse.

Well, now can I make any Ioane a Lady, Good den Sir Richard, G.o.damercy fellow, And if his name be George, Ile call him Peter; For new made honor doth forget mens names: 'Tis two respectiue, and too sociable For your conuersion, now your traueller, Hee and his tooth-picke at my wors.h.i.+ps messe, And when my knightly stomacke is suffis'd, Why then I sucke my teeth, and catechize My picked man of Countries: my deare sir, Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin, I shall beseech you; that is question now, And then comes answer like an Absey booke: O sir, sayes answer, at your best command, At your employment, at your seruice sir: No sir, saies question, I sweet sir at yours, And so ere answer knowes what question would, Sauing in Dialogue of Complement, And talking of the Alpes and Appenines, The Perennean and the riuer Poe, It drawes toward supper in conclusion so.

But this is wors.h.i.+pfull society, And fits the mounting spirit like my selfe; For he is but a b.a.s.t.a.r.d to the time That doth not smoake of obseruation, And so am I whether I smacke or no: And not alone in habit and deuice, Exterior forme, outward accoutrement; But from the inward motion to deliuer Sweet, sweet, sweet poyson for the ages tooth, Which though I will not practice to deceiue, Yet to auoid deceit I meane to learne; 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 paines to blow a horne before her?

O me, 'tis my mother: how now good Lady, What brings you heere to Court so hastily?

Enter Lady Faulconbridge and Iames Gurney.

Lady. Where is that slaue thy brother? where is he?

That holds in chase mine honour vp and downe

Bast. My brother Robert, old Sir Roberts sonne: Colbrand the Gyant, that same mighty man, Is it Sir Roberts sonne that you seeke so?

Lady. Sir Roberts sonne, I thou vnreuerend boy, Sir Roberts sonne? why scorn'st thou at sir Robert?

He is Sir Roberts sonne, and so art thou

Bast. Iames Gournie, wilt thou giue vs leaue a while?

Gour. Good leaue good Philip

Bast. Philip, sparrow, Iames, There's toyes abroad, anon Ile tell thee more.

Exit Iames.

Madam, I was not old Sir Roberts sonne, Sir Robert might haue eat his part in me Vpon good Friday, and nere broke his fast: Sir Robert could doe well, marrie to confesse Could get me sir Robert could not doe it; We know his handy-worke, therefore good mother To whom am I beholding for these limmes?

Sir Robert neuer holpe to make this legge

Lady. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, That for thine owne gaine shouldst defend mine honor?

What meanes this scorne, thou most vntoward knaue?

Bast. Knight, knight good mother, Basilisco-like: What, I am dub'd, I haue it on my shoulder: But mother, I am not Sir Roberts sonne, I haue 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. Hast thou denied thy selfe a Faulconbridge?

Bast. As faithfully as I denie the deuill

Lady. King Richard Cordelion was thy father, By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd To make roome for him in my husbands bed: Heauen lay not my transgression to my charge, That art the issue of my deere offence Which was so strongly vrg'd past my defence

Bast. Now by this light were I to get againe, Madam I would not wish a better father: Some sinnes doe beare their priuiledge on earth, And so doth yours: your fault, was not your follie, Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subiected tribute to commanding loue, Against whose furie and vnmatched force, The awlesse Lion could not wage the fight, Nor keepe his Princely heart from Richards hand: He that perforce robs Lions of their hearts, May easily winne a womans: aye my mother, With all my heart I thanke thee for my father: Who liues and dares but say, thou didst not well When I was got, Ile send his soule to h.e.l.l.

Come Lady I will shew thee to my kinne, And they shall say, when Richard me begot, If thou hadst sayd him nay, it had beene sinne; Who sayes it was, he lyes, I say twas not.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter before Angiers, Philip King of France, Lewis, Daulphin, Austria, Constance, Arthur.

Lewis. Before Angiers well met braue Austria, Arthur that great fore-runner of thy bloud, Richard that rob'd the Lion of his heart, And fought the holy Warres in Palestine, By this braue Duke came early to his graue: And for amends to his posteritie, At our importance hether is he come, To spread his colours boy, in thy behalfe, And to rebuke the vsurpation Of thy vnnaturall Vncle, English Iohn, Embrace him, loue him, giue him welcome hether

Arth. G.o.d shall forgiue you Cordelions death The rather, that you giue his off-spring life, Shadowing their right vnder your wings of warre: I giue you welcome with a powerlesse hand, But with a heart full of vnstained loue, Welcome before the gates Angiers Duke

Lewis. A n.o.ble boy, who would not doe thee right?

Aust. Vpon thy cheeke lay I this zelous kisse, As seale to this indenture of my loue: That to my home I will no more returne Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France, Together with that pale, that white-fac'd sh.o.r.e, Whose foot spurnes backe the Oceans roaring tides, And coopes from other lands her Ilanders, Euen till that England hedg'd in with the maine, That Water-walled Bulwarke, still secure And confident from forreine purposes, Euen till that vtmost corner of the West Salute thee for her King, till then faire boy Will I not thinke of home, but follow Armes

Const. O take his mothers thanks, a widdows thanks, Till your strong hand shall helpe to giue him strength, To make a more requitall to your loue

Aust. The peace of heauen is theirs y lift their swords In such a iust and charitable warre

King. Well, then to worke our Cannon shall be bent Against the browes of this resisting towne, Call for our cheefest men of discipline, To cull the plots of best aduantages: Wee'll lay before this towne our Royal bones, Wade to the market-place in French-mens bloud, But we will make it subiect to this boy

Con. Stay for an answer to your Emba.s.sie, Lest vnaduis'd you staine your swords with bloud, My Lord Chattilion may from England bring That right in peace which heere we vrge in warre, And then we shall repent each drop of bloud, That hot rash haste so indirectly shedde.

Enter Chattilion.

King. A wonder Lady: lo vpon thy wish Our Messenger Chattilion is arriu'd, What England saies, say breefely gentle Lord, We coldly pause for thee, Chatilion speake, Chat. Then turne your forces from this paltry siege, And stirre them vp against a mightier taske: England impatient of your iust demands, Hath put himselfe in Armes, the aduerse windes Whose leisure I haue staid, haue giuen him time To land his Legions all as soone as I: His marches are expedient to this towne, His forces strong, his Souldiers confident: With him along is come the Mother Queene, An Ace stirring him to bloud and strife, With her her Neece, the Lady Blanch of Spaine, With them a b.a.s.t.a.r.d of the Kings deceast, And all th' vnsetled humors of the Land, Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, With Ladies faces, and fierce Dragons spleenes, Haue sold their fortunes at their natiue homes, Bearing their birth-rights proudly on their backs, To make a hazard of new fortunes heere: In briefe, a brauer choyse of dauntlesse spirits Then now the English bottomes haue waft o're, Did neuer flote vpon the swelling tide, To doe offence and scathe in Christendome: The interruption of their churlish drums Cuts off more circ.u.mstance, they are at hand,

Drum beats.

To parlie or to fight, therefore prepare

Kin. How much vnlook'd for, is this expedition

Aust. By how much vnexpected, by so much We must awake indeuor for defence, For courage mounteth with occasion, Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd.

Enter K[ing]. of England, b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Queene, Blanch, Pembroke, and others.