« AnteriorContinuar »
Near or far off, well won is still well shot;
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.
[Ereunt 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 catechise My picked man of countries :My dear sir (Thus, leaning on my elbow, I begin), I shall beseech you—That is question now; And then comes answer like au 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 dialogne of compliment; And talking of the Alps, and Apennines, The Pyrenean, and the river Po), It draws towards 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 babit 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 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 unreve
rend boy, Sir Robert's son! Why scorn'st thou at Sir Ro
bert? He is Sir Robert's son; and so art thou. Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave
awhile ? Gur. Good leave, good Philip. Bast.
Philip ?-sparrow !-James, There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell thee more.
(Exit GURNEY. 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 fast : Sir Robert could do well: Marry, (to confess !) 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 holp to make this leg. Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother
too, That for thine own gain should'st defend mine
honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward
knave? Bast. Knight, knight, good mother,-Basilis.
co-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:
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.
Bast. 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 awless lion could not wage the fight, Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's band. 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.
ACT II. 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 mét, 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 ibu tave duke came early to his grave : And, for a nends to his posterity, At our importance, hither is be 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. Gọd 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 onstained 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, 0, 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. Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift
their swords In such a just and charitable war. K. Phi. Well then, to work; our cannon sball
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.
Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy,