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 :

Your face hath got five hundred pounds 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 bear'st:

Kneel thou down Philip, but arise more great:
Arise sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

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

My father gave me honour, yours gave land: —
Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet !

I am thy grandame, Richard; call me so.

Bast. Madam, by chance, but not by truth: What though?

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.

[Exeunt all but the Bastard.

A foot of honour better than I was;
But many a 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,

-

1

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 countries": My dear sir,
(Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,)
I shall beseech That is question now;

you

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 Appenines,
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:
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?
My travelled fop.

s Good evening.

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 a

while?

Gur. Good leave, good Philip.

Bast.

7

Philip?-sparrow! - James,

There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell thee more.

[Exit GURNEY.

Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son.

Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother

What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? Bast. 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?

7 Idle reports.

8 A character in an old Drama called Soliman and Perseda.

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 great offence,
Which was so strongly urg'd, past my defence.
Bast. 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,
Subjécted tribute to commanding love,
Against whose fury and unmatched force
The awless lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.

[Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.

་

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 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,
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.

9 Importunity.