For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising.

Enter Lady Falconbridge and James Gurney

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?

O me, ’tis my mother! How now, good lady? 220

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 the Giant, that same mighty man? 225

Is it Sir Robert’s son that you seek so?

LADY FALCONBRIDGE

Sir Robert’s son, ay, thou unreverent boy,

Sir Robert’s son. Why scorn’st thou at Sir Robert?

He is Sir Robert’s son, and so art thou.

BASTARD

James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? 230

GURNEY

Good leave, good Philip.

BASTARD Philip Sparrow, James!

There’s toys abroad; anon I’ll tell thee more.

Exit James 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. 235

Sir Robert could do well, marry to confess,

Could a get me! Sir Robert could not do it:

We know his handiwork. Therefore, good mother,

To whom am I beholden for these limbs?

Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. 240

LADY FALCONBRIDGE

Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,

That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour?

What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?

BASTARD

Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco-like!

What! I am dubbed; I have it on my shoulder. 245

But, mother, I am not Sir Robert’s son.

I have disclaimed 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? 250

LADY FALCONBRIDGE

Hast thou denied thyself a Falconbridge ?

BASTARD

As faithfully as I deny the devil.

LADY FALCONBRIDGE

King Richard Cœur-de-lion was thy father.

By long and vehement suit I was seduced

To make room for him in my husband’s bed. 255

Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge!

Thou art the issue of my dear offence,

Which was so strongly urged past my defence.

BASTARD

Now by this light, were I to get again,

Madam, I would not wish a better father. 260

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 265

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. 270

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. 275

Who says it was, he lies: I say ’twas not. Exeunt

2.1 ⌈Flourish.⌉ Enter before Angers ⌈at one door⌉ Philip King of France, Louis the Dauphin, Lady Constance, and Arthur Duke of Brittaine, with soldiers; ⌈at another door⌉ the Duke of Austria, wearing a lion’s hide, with soldiers

⌈KING PHILIP⌉

Before Angers well met, brave Austria.—

Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,

Richard that robbed the lion of his heart

And fought the holy wars in Palestine,

By this brave duke came early to his grave; 5

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. 10

Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.

ARTHUR (to Austria)

God 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, 15

But with a heart full of unstained love.

Welcome before the gates of Angers, Duke.

⌈KING PHILIP⌉

A noble boy. Who would not do thee right?

AUSTRIA (kissing Arthur)

Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss

As seal to this indenture of my love: 20

That to my home I will no more return

Till Angers and the right thou hast in France,

Together with that pale, that white-faced shore,

Whose foot spurns back the ocean’s roaring tides

And coops from other lands her islanders, 25

Even till that England, hedged in with the main,

That water-wallèd 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.

C0NSTANCE

O, take his mother’s thanks, a widow’s thanks,