As I fuppofe, to Faulconbridge,

A Soldier, by the Honour-giving-hand
Of Cordelion, Knighted in the Field.
K. John. What art thou?

Robert. The Son and Heir to that fime Faulconbridge
K. John. Is that the Elder, and art thou the Heir?
You came not of one Mother, then it feems?

Baft. Moft certain of one Mother, mighty King,
That is well known, and, as I think, one Father:
But for the certain Knowledge of that Truth,
I put you o'er to Heav'n, and to my Mother;
Of that I doubt, as all Mens Children may.

Eli. Out on thee, rude Man, thou doft shame thy Mother, And wound her Honour with this diffidence.

Baft. I, Madam? No: I have no Reason for it;

That is my Brother's Plea, and none of mine,

The which if he can prove, a pops me out,
At least from fair five hundred pound a Year:
Heav'n guard my Mother's Honour, and my Land.

K. John. A good blunt Fellow; why being younger Born

Doth he lay claim to thine Inheritance ?

Baft. I know not why, except to get the Land;
But once he flander'd me with Baftardy:
But whether I be as true begot or no,
That ftill I lay upon my Mother's Head,
But that I am as well begot, my Liege,
Fair fall the Bones that took the Pains for me,
Compare our Faces, and be judge your felf.
If o'd Sir Robert did beget us both,
And were our Father, and this Son like him:
O old Sir Robert Father, on my Knee

I give Heav'n thanks I was not like to thee.

K. John. Why what a mad-cap hath Heav'n lent us here?
Eli. He hath a trick of Cordelion's Face,
The accent of his Tongue affe&teth him:
Do you not read fome Tokens of my Son
In the large Compofition of this Man?

K. John. Mine Eye hath well examined his Parts,
And finds them perfect Richard: Sirrah, fpeak,
What doth move you to claim your Brother's Land ?

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 mult 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 fpeak:
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 Courfe 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 fouth 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 Hir muft have your Father's Land,
Rob. Shail then my Father's Will be of so force
To difpoflefs that Child which is not his?

Baft.

1

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 fhould 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 eld.ft 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:

B 4

Who

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 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 worse.
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 respective, and too fociable

For your Converfion, now your Traveller,
He and his Tooth-pick, at my Worship's Mefs,
And when my Knightly Stomach is fuffic'd,
Why then I fuck my Teeth, and Catechise
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 Anfwer 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 Queftion 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 felf;
For he is but a Baftard to the time
That do h not fmoak of Observation,
And fo am I whether I fmack or no;
And not alone in Habit and Device,
Exterior Form, outward Acoutrement;
But from the inward Motion to deliver

1

Sweet,

Sweet, fweet, fweet Poison for the Ages Tooth,
Which though I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn;

For it shall 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 should'st defend mine Honour ?
What means this Scorn, thou moft untoward Knave?
Baft. Koight, 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 difclaim'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, Mether?

Lady.