King JOHN.
Now say, Chattilion, 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 Embassie.

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, Poyctiers, Anjou, Touaine, 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 Soveraign.

K. John.
What follows, if we disallow of this?

Chat.
The proud Control of fierce and bloody War,
To inforce these Rights so forcibly with-held.

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 farthest limit of my Embassie.

K. John.
Bear mine to him, and so depart in Peace.
Be thou as Lightning in the Eyes of France;
For e'er 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; farewel Chattilion. [Exit Chat. and Pem.

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 easie 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 Heav'n, and you and I shall hear.

Essex.
My Liege, here is the strangest Controversie
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:
Our Abbies and our Priories shall pay
This Expedition's Charge. What Men are you? Enter Robert Faulconbridge and the Bastard.

Bast.
Your faithful Subject, I, a Gentleman,
Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest Son,

As I suppose, to Faulconbridge,
A Soldier, by the Honour-giving-hand
Of Cordelion, Knighted in the Field.

K. John.
What art thou?

Robert.
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 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 Heav'n, and to my Mother;
Of that I doubt, as all Mens 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:
Heav'n 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 whether 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 your self.
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 Heav'n thanks I was not like to thee.

K. John.
Why what a mad-cap hath Heav'n lent us here?

Eli.
He hath a trick of Cordelion'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 imploy my Father much—

Bast.
Well, Sir, by this you cannot get my Land,
Your Tale must be how he imploy'd my Mother.

Rob.
And once dispatch'd him in an Embassie
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 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;
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,
Which Fault lyes 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.
Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge,
And, like thy Brother, to enjoy thy Land:
Or the reputed Son of Cordelion,
Lord of thy Presence, and no Land beside?

Bast.
Madam, and 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 stuft, 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 Nobbe in any case.

Eli.
I like thee well; wilt thou forsake thy Fortune,
Bequeath thy Land to him, and follow me?
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 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 rise more great,
Arise Sir Richard and Plantagenet.

Bast.
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.

Eli.
The very Spirit of Plantagenet:
I am thy Grandam, 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 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'th' way of honesty. [Ex. all but 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-denn, Sir Richard, Godamercy Fellow,
And if his Name be George, I'll call him Peter;
For new made Honour doth forget Mens Names:
'Tis too respective, and too sociable
For your Conversion, now your Traveller,
He and his Tooth-pick, at my Worship's Mess,
And when my Knightly Stomach is suffic'd,
Why then I suck my Teeth, and Catechise
My picked Man of Countrys: 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 e'er Answer knows what Question would,
Saving in Dialogue of Compliment,
And talking of the Alpes and Appenines,
The Pyrennean and the River Po,
It draws towards Supper in conclusion so.
But this is worshipful Society,
And fits the mounting Spirit like my self;
For he is but a Bastard to the time
That doth not smoak 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 Ages Tooth,
Which though I will not practice 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,
O me, 'tis my Mother; how now, good Lady?
What brings you here to Court so hastily? Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James Gurney.

Lady.
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.
Sir Robert's Son! ay, thou unreverend Boy,
Sir Robert's Son, why scornest 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 James.
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 get me! Sir Robert could not do it;
We know his Handy-work, therefore good Mother
To whom am I beholding for these Limbs?
Sir Robert never holp to make this Leg.

Lady.
Hast thou conspir'd with thy Brother too,
That for thine own gain should'st defend mine Honour?
What means this Scorn, thou most untoward Knave?

Bast.
Knight, Knight, good Mother, Basilisco-like.
What, I am dub'd, I have it on my Shoulder:
But Mother, I am not Sir Robert's Son,
I have disclam'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 deny'd thy self a Faulconbridge?

Bast.
As faithfully as I deny the Devil.

Lady.
King Richard Cordelion was thy Father;
By long and vehement Suit I was seduc'd
To make room for him in my Husband's Bed.
Heav'n 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 awless Lyon could not wage the Fight,
Nor keep his princely Heart from Richard's Hands.
He that per Force robs Lyons 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 shew 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 lyes; I say 'twas not. [Exeunt.

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