Make me to think so twenty years together: No settled senses of the world can match The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone.
Were it but told you, should be hooted at
Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you; but Like an old tale; but it appears she lives,
I could afflict you farther.
Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while.-
Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel,
And pray your mother's blessing.-Turn, good lady,
Our Perdita is found. [PERDITA kneels to HERMIONE.
Her.
You gods, look down,
And from your sacred vials pour your graces
Upon my daughter's head!-Tell me, mine own,
Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd? how found
Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that I,
Knowing by Paulina that the oracle
Gave hope thou wast in being, have preserv'd
Myself to see the issue.
Paul.
There's time enough for that,
Lest they desire upon this push to trouble
Your joys with like relation.-Go together,
You precious winners all: your exultation
Partake to every one. I, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there
My mate, that's never to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.
0 peace, Paulina! Thou should'st a husband take by my consent, As I by thine, a wife: this is a match,
And made between's by vows. Thou hast found mine; But how is to be question'd, for I saw her,
As I thought, dead; and have in vain said many
A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far
(For him, I partly know his mind) to find thee
An honourable husband.-Come, Camillo,
And take her hand, whose worth, and honesty,
Is richly noted, and here justified
By us, a pair of kings.- Let's from this place.-
What!-Look upon my brother :-both your pardons,
That e'er I put between your holy looks
My ill-suspicion. This your son-in-law,
And son unto the king, (whom heavens directing)
Is troth-plight to your daughter.-Good Paulina,
Lead us from hence, where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd. Hastily lead away.
Lords, Ladies, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants. SCENE, sometimes in England, and sometimes in France.
SCENE I.-Northampton. A Room of State in the
Enter King JOHN, Queen ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBURY, and Others, with CHATILLON.
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 embassy.
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, Poictiers, 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.
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 embassy.
K. John. Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace. Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; For ere 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 sudden presage of your own decay.— An honourable conduct let him have:
Pembroke, look to't. Farewell, Chatillon.
[Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE.
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 easy 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 heaven, and you, and I, shall hear.
Enter the Sheriff of Northamptonshire, who whispers
ESSEX.
Essex. My liege, here is the strangest controversy, 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 abbeys, and our priories, shall pay Re-enter Sheriff, with ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE, and PHILIP, his bastard Brother. This expedition's charge.-What men are you? Bast. Your faithful subject I; a gentleman Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son, As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, A soldier, by the honour-giving hand Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field. K. John. What art thou?
Rob. 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 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.
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
Eli. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame thy To dispossess that child which is not his?
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,
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 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,
(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 him,
O! old sir Robert, father, on my knee
I give heaven thanks, I was not like to thee.
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 Coeur-de-lion,
Lord of thy presence, and no land beside?
Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
And I had his, sir Robert 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'd give it every foot to have this face:
I would not be sir Nob in any case.
Eli. 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.
Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance.
K. John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year, here!
Eli. 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?
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 that half-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:
Your tale must be, how he employ'd my mother.
Rob. And once despatch'd him in an embassy
To Germany, there, with the emperor,
To treat of high affairs touching that time.
The 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 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,
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 arise more great:
[Bast. kneels and rises.
Arise sir Richard, and Plantagenet.
Bast. Brother, by the 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 grandame, Richard: call me so.
Bast. 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.
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' the way of honesty.
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[Exeunt all but the Bastard. A foot of honour better than I was, But many, ah, 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 tooth-pick 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 ABC-book:
"O sir," says answer, "6 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 Pyreneans, and the river Po,
It draws toward supper, in conclusion so.
But this is worshipful society,
And fits a 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! it is my mother.-How now, good lady!
What brings you here to court so hastily?
Lady F. 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 F. 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.
Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? Gur. Good leave, good Philip. Bast. 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 handy-work.-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, That for thine own gain should'st defend mine honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco
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 F. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?
Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil.
Lady F. 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.
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 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.
SCENE I.-France. Before the Walls of Angiers.
Enter, on one side, the Archduke of AUSTRIA, and
Forces; on the other, PHILIP, King of France, and
Forces; LEWIS, CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and Attendants.
Lew. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.-
Arthur, that great fore-runner 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.
Arth. God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death, The rather, that you give his offspring life, Shadowing his right under your wings of war.
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstrained 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,
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,
Outfaced infant state, and done a rape
To make a more requital to your love.
Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift their Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.
swords
In such a just and charitable war.
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face:
K. Phi. Well then, to work. Our cannon shall be These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his : 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 indiscreetly shed.
K. Phi. A wonder, lady!-lo, upon thy wish, Our messenger, Chatillon, is arriv'd.—
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
We coldly pause for thee: Chatillon, speak.
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'ermasterest?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great commis-
sion, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles?
K. Phi. 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,
Chat. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege, And by whose help I mean to chastise it.
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,
As Até stirring him to blood and strife:
With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king's deceased,
And all th' 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.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,
To parley, or to fight; therefore, prepare.
K. Phi. How much unlook'd for is this expedition!
Aust. 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 prepared.
Enter King JOHN, ELINOR, BLANCH, the Bastard,
PEMBROKE, and Forces.
K. 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.
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.
This toil of ours should be a work of thine;
But thou from loving England art so far,
That thou hast under-wrought her lawful king,
Cut off the sequence of posterity,
K. John. Alack! thou dost usurp authority.
K. Phi. Excuse: it is to beat usurping down.
Eli. Who is it, thou dost call usurper, France?
Const. Let me make answer :-thy usurping son.
Eli. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king,
That thou may'st be a queen, and check the world!
Const. 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.
Eli. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.
Const. There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot
What the devil art thou?
Bast. 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, and 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.
Bast. It lies as sightly on the back of him,
As great Alcides' shoes upon an ass.-
But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back,
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.
Aust. What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears
With this abundance of superfluous breath?
K. Phi. Lewis, determine what we shall do straight.
Lew. Women and fools, break off your conference.—
King John, this is the very sum of all:
England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee.
Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms?
K. John. My life as soon: I do defy thee, France.—
Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand,
And out of my dear love I'll give thee more,
Than e'er the coward hand of France can win :
Submit thee, boy.
Come to thy grandam, child.
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