My mother's fon 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
To difpoffefs that child which is not his?
Baft. Of no more force to difpoffefs me, Sir,
Than was his will to get me, as I think,

Eli. Say, hadft thou rather be a Faulconbridge,
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land:
Or the reputed foh of Coeur-de-lion,

Lord of thy presence, and no land befide ?

Baft. Madam, an 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 so thin,
That in mine ear I durft not stick a rofe, *
Left men should fay, look where three farthings goes;
And with his fhape were heir to all this land;
Would I might never ftir from off this place,
I'd give it ev'ry 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 foldier 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 eldest fon.

}

[bear'ft: K. John. From henceforth bear his name whose form thou Kneel thou down Philip, but rise up more great,

Arife Sir Richard and Plantagenet.

Baft. Brother by th' mother's fide, give me your hand,

Alluding to the three farthing pieces current in Queen Elizabeth's time which had a rofe on the reverfe and being of filver they must be supposed to be very thin.

Sir Nobbe, a nickname, in contempt, of Sir Robert.

R 2

My

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 fpirit 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 landlefs 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 was got i'th'way of honesty. [Ex. all but Baft.
SCENE II.

A foot of honour better than I was,
But many, many a foot of land the worfe!
Well, now can I make any Joan a Lady.
Good-den, 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 unfociable

For your converfing. Now your traveller,
He and his tooth-pick at my Worship's mess;
And when my knightly ftomach is fuffic'd,
Why then I fuck my teeth, and catechife
My picked man of countries,-my dear Sir,
(Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin)
I fhall befeech you,-that is Question now,
And then comes Anfwer like an ABC-book:
O Sir, fays Answer, at your best command,
At your employment, at your fervice, Sir:-
No, Sir, fays Queftion, I, fweet Sir, at yours,
And fo ere Anfwer knows what Question would,
Serving in dialogue of compliment,

And talking of the Alps and Appenines,
The Pyrenean and the river Po,

It

It draws towards fupper in conclufion fo.
But this is worshipful fociety,

And fits the mounting spirit like my self:
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not fmack of obfervation,
(And fo am I whether I fmack or no)
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion too deliver

*

Sweet, fweet, sweet poifon for the age's 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 such hafte in riding robes ?
What woman-poft is this? hath fhe no husband
That will take pains to blow a horn before her?
O me, it is my mother; now, good Lady,
What brings you here to Court so hastily?

Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James Gurney. Lady. Where is that flave, thy brother? where is he, That holds in chase mine honour up and down? Baft. My brother Robert, old Sir Robert's fon, Colbrand the giant, that fame mighty man, Is it Sir Robert's fon that you feek fo?

Lady. Sir Robert's fon? ay, thou unrev'rent boy, Sir Robert's fon, why fcorn'ft thou at Sir Robert ? He is Sir Robert's fon, and fo art thou.

Baft. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a while? Gur. Good leave, good Philip.

Baft. Philip! fpare me, James.

There's toys abroad, anon I'll tell thee more. [Exit James.
Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's fon.

Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his faft:
Sir Robert could do well: marry, confefs!
Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it ;

We know his handy-work, therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholden for these limbs ?

Sir Robert never help'd to make this leg.

Lady. Haft thou confpired with thy brother too, That for thine own gain fhould'ft defend mine honour? What means this fcorn, thou most untoward knave?

Bast. Knight, Knight, good mother-Bafilisco-like.*Why, I am dub'd, I have it on my shoulder: But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's fon, 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 Coeur-de-lion was thy father;
By long and vehement fuit I was feduc'd
To make room for him in my hufband'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 fins 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,
Against whofe fury and unmatched force
The awless lion could not wage the fight,

Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hands.
He that per force robs lions of their hearts,
May afily 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 foul to hell.
Come, Lady, I will fhew thee to my kin,
And they fhall fay, when Richard me begot,
If thou hadft said him nay, it had been fin;
Who fays it was, he lies; I fay 'twas not.

[Exeunt.

Alluding to a part in a Play known at that time, call'd Soliman and Perfeda

ACT

SCENE, before the walls of Angiers in France, Enter Philip King of France, Lewis the Dauphin, the ArchDuke of Auftria, Conftance, and Arthur.

Lewis.

Barthur, that great fore-runner of thy blood

Efore Angiers well met, brave Auftria.

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 pofterity,

At our importance hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the ufurpation

Of thy unnatural uncle, English John.

Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.

Arth. God fhall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death
The rather, that you give his off-spring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war,
I give you welcome with a pow'rless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.

Lewis. A noble boy! who would not do thee right?
Auft. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kifs,

As feal to this indenture of my love
That to my home I will no more return,
'Till Angiers and the right thou haft in France,
Together with that pale that white-fac'd fhore
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her islanders;
Ev'n 'till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, ftill fecure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Ev'n 'till that outmoft corner of the weft
Salute thee for her King. "Till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.

Conft. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks,
"Till your ftrong hand fhall help to give him ftrength,
To make a more requital to your love.

Auft. The peace of heav'n is theirs, who lift their swords

In