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Baft. Because he hath a half-face, like my Father,
With half that Face would he have all my Lands,
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-
Baft. 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 Embaffie
To Germany, there with the Emperor
To treat of high Affairs touching that time:
Th'Advantage of his Ablence took the King,
And in the mean time fojourn'd at my Father's;
Where, how he did prevail, I fhame 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 fpeak himself,
When this fame lufty 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 he did play falfe, 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 fay, took pains to get this Son,
Had of your Father claim'd this Son for his,
In footh, good Friend, your Father might have kept
This Calf, bred from his Cow, from all the World:
In footh he might; then if he were my Brother's,
My Brother might not claim him; nor your Father,
Being none of his, refufe him; this concludes,
My Mother's Son did get your Father's Heir,
Your Father's Heir muft have your Father's Land.
Rob. Shall then my Father's Will be of no force
To difpoflefs that Child which is not his?
Baft. Of no more force to difpoffefs me, Sir,
Then was his Will to get me, as I think.
Eli. Whether hadft thou rather be a Faulconbridge,
And, like thy Brother, to enjoy thy Land:
Or the reputed Son of Cordelion,
Lord of thy Prefence, and no Land befide?
Baft. Madam, and if my Brother had my Shape,
And I had his, Sir Robert's his, like him,
And if my Legs were two fuch riding Rods,
My Arms fuch Eel-skins ftuft, my Face fo thin,
That in mine Ear I durft not ftick a Rofe,
Left Men should fay, look where three Farthings goes,
And to his Shape were Heir to all this Land,
Would I might never ftir from off this Place,
I would give it every Foot to have this Face:
I would not be Sir Nobbe in any cafe.
Eli. I like thee well; wilt thou forfake thy Fortune,
Bequeath thy Land to him, and follow me?
I am a Soldier, and now bound to France.
Baft. Brother, take you my Land, I'll take my Chance;
Your Face hath got five hundred Pound a Year,
Yet fell 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.
Baft. Our Country manners give our Betters way.
K. John. What is thy Name?
Baft. Philip, my Liege, fo is my Name begun,
Philip, good old Sir Robert's Wife's eldeft Son.
K. John. From henceforth bear his Name
Whole Form thou beareft:
Kneel thou down Philip, but rife more great,
Arife Sir Richard and Plantagenet.
Baft. Brother by th'Mother's fide, give me your Hand,
My Father gave me Honour, yours gave Land.
Now bleffed 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 fo.
Baft. Madam, by chance, but not by truth, what tho'; Something about, a little from the right, In at the Window, or elfe o'er the Hatch:
Who dares not ftir by Day, muft walk by Night,
And have is have, however Men do catch;
Near or far off, well won is ftill well shot,
And I am I, howe'er I was begot.
K. John. Go, Faulconbridge, now haft thou thy defire,
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.
Baft. Brother, adieu, good Fortune come to thee,
For thou waft got i' th' way of honefty. [Ex. all but Baftard.
A Foot of Honour better than I was,
But many a many Foot of Land the worfe.
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 refpective, and too fociable
For your Converfion, now your Traveller,
He and his Tooth-pick, at my Worfhip's Mefs,
And when my Knightly Stomach is fuffic'd,
Why then I fuck my Teeth, and Catechife
My picked Man of Countrys; My Dear Sir,
Thus leaning on mine Elbow I begin,
I fhall befeech you; that is Queftion now,
And then comes Arfwer like an Abfey-Book:
O Sir, fays Anfwer, at your beft Command,
At your Employment, at your Service, Sir:
No, Sir, fays Queftion, I, fweet Sir, at yours,
And fo e'er Anfwer 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 conclufion fc.
But this is worshipful Society,
And fits the mounting Spirit like my
For he is but a Baftard to the time
That doth not (moak of Obfervation,
And fo am I whether I fmack or no;
And not alone in Habit and Device,
Exterior Fou, outward Acoutrement;
But from the inward Motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, fweet Poifon for the Ages Tooth,
Which though I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn;
For it fhall ftrew the Footsteps of my Rifing:
But who comes in fuch hafte in riding Robes?
What Woman-poft is this? Hath the 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 fo haftily?
Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James Gurney. Lady. Where is that Slave, thy Brother? Where is he? That holds in chafe mine Honour up and down.
Baft. My Brother Robert, old Sir Robert's Son,
Colbrand the Giant, that fame mighty Man,
Is it Sir Robert's Son that you feek fo?
Lady. Sir Robert's Son! ay, thou unreverend Boy, Sir Robert's Son, why scorneft thou at Sir Robert? He is Sir Robert's Son, and fo art thou.
Baft. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a while?
Gur. Good leave, good Philip.
Baft. 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 Faft:
Sir Robert could do well, marry, to confefs!
Could get me! Sir Robert could not do it;
We know his Handy-work, therefore good Mother
To whom am I beholding for thefe Limbs?
Sir Robert never holp to make this Leg.
Lady. Haft thou confpir'd with thy Brother too,
That for thine own gain fhould'ft defend mine Honour?
What means this Scorn, thou moft untoward Knave?
Baft. Knight, Knight, good Mother, Bafilifco-like.
What, I am dub'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. Haft thou deny'd thy felf a Faulconbridge ?;
Baft. As faithfully as I deny the Devil.
Lady. King Richard Cordelion was thy Father;
By long and vehement Suit I was feduc'd
To make room for him in my Husband's Bed.
Heav'n lay not my Tranfgreffion to my charge;
Thou art the Iffue of my dear Offence,
Which was fo ftrongly urg'd paft my Defence.
Baft. Now, by this Light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not wifh a better Father.
Some Sins do bear their Privilege on Earth,
And fo doth yours; your Fault was not your Folly;
Needs muft you lay your Heart at his Dispose,
Subjected Tribute to commanding Love,
Againft whofe 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 fay, thou didst not well
When I was got, I'll fend his Soul to Hell.
Come, Lady, I will fhew thee to my Kin,
And they fhall fay, when Richard me begot,
If thou hadst faid him nay, it had been Sin;
Who fays it was, he lyes; I say 'twas not,
SCENE, before the Walls of Angiers.
Enter Philip King of France, Lewis the Dauphin, Auftria, Conftance, and Arthur.
Lewis. Before Angiers, well met brave Auftria,
Arthur, that great Fore-runner of thy Blood,
Richard that robb'd the Lion of his Heart,
And fought the holy Wars in Falestine,
By this brave Duke came early to his Grave;
And for amends to his Pofterity,
At our Importance hither is he come,
To fpread his Colours, Boy, in thy behalf;