King John | Page 6

gain shouldst defend mine honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?
BASTARD. 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?
LADY FalcoNBRIDGE. Hast thou denied thyself a Falconbridge?
BASTARD. As faithfully as I deny the devil.
LADY FALCONBRIDGE. 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.
BASTARD. 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.
[Exeunt.]

ACT II.
SCENE 1. France. Before the walls of Angiers.
[Enter, on one side, the ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA and Forces; on the other, PHILIP, King of France, LOUIS, CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and Forces.]
KING PHILIP. 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 Of thy unnatural uncle, English John: Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
ARTHUR. God shall forgive you Coeur-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.
LOUIS. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?
AUSTRIA. 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.
CONSTANCE. 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!
AUSTRIA. The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords In such a just and charitable war.
KING PHILIP. Well then, to work: our cannon shall 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.
CONSTANCE. 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.
KING PHILIP. A wonder, lady!--lo, upon thy wish, Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd.
[Enter CHATILLON.]
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak.
CHATILLON. 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 neice, the Lady Blanch