King John | Page 5

him. This
concludes,-- My mother's son did get your father's heir; Your father's
heir must have your father's land.
ROBERT. Shall then my father's will be of no force To dispossess that
child which is not his?
BASTARD. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, Than was his will
to get me, as I think.
ELINOR. Whether hadst thou rather be a Falconbridge, And like thy
brother, to enjoy thy land, Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, Lord of
thy presence and no land beside?
BASTARD. Madam, an 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 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 would give it every foot to have this face; I would
not be Sir Nob in any case.
ELINOR. 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.
BASTARD. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance: Your face
hath got five hundred pound a-year; Yet sell your face for fivepence
and 'tis dear.-- Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.
ELINOR. Nay, I would have you go before me thither.
BASTARD. Our country manners give our betters way.
KING JOHN. What is thy name?
BASTARD. Philip, my liege, so is my name begun; Philip, good old
Sir Robert's wife's eldest son.
KING JOHN. From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bear'st:
Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great,-- Arise Sir Richard and
Plantagenet.
BASTARD. 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!
ELINOR. The very spirit of Plantagenet!-- I am thy grandam, Richard;
call me so.
BASTARD. 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.
KING JOHN. Go, Falconbridge; 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.
BASTARD. Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee! For thou wast
got i' th' way of honesty.
[Exeunt all but the 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 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 toothpick 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 '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 Pyrenean and the river Po,-- It draws toward supper in
conclusion so. But this is worshipful society, And fits the 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 FALCONBRIDGE, and JAMES GURNEY.]
O me, 'tis my mother!--w now, good lady! What brings you here to
court so hastily?
LADY FALCONBRIDGE. Where is that slave, thy brother? where is
he That holds in chase mine honour up and down?
BASTARD. My brother Robert? old Sir Robert's son? Colbrand