Chapter: ACT I. SCENE 1.

Northampton. A Room of State in the Palace.

[Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBURY, and
others, with CHATILLON.]

KING JOHN.
Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us?

CHATILLON.
Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France,
In my behaviour, to the majesty,
The borrow'd majesty of England here.

ELINOR.
A strange beginning:--borrow'd majesty!

KING JOHN.
Silence, good mother; hear the embassy.

CHATILLON.
Philip of France, in right and true behalf
Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son,
Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim
To this fair island and the territories,--
To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine;
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword
Which sways usurpingly these several titles,
And put the same into young Arthur's hand,
Thy nephew and right royal sovereign.

KING JOHN.
What follows if we disallow of this?

CHATILLON.
The proud control of fierce and bloody war,
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld.

KING JOHN.
Here have we war for war, and blood for blood,
Controlment for controlment;--so answer France.

CHATILLON.
Then take my king's defiance from my mouth,
The farthest limit of my embassy.

KING JOHN.
Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace:
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France;
For ere thou canst report I will be there,
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard:
So, hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath,
And sullen presage of your own decay.--
An honourable conduct let him have:--
Pembroke, look to 't. Farewell, Chatillon.

[Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE.]

ELINOR.
What now, my son! Have I not ever said
How that ambitious Constance would not cease
Till she had kindled France and all the world
Upon the right and party of her son?
This might have been prevented and made whole
With very easy arguments of love;
Which now the manage of two kingdoms must
With fearful bloody issue arbitrate.

KING JOHN.
Our strong possession and our right for us.

ELINOR.
Your strong possession much more than your right,
Or else it must go wrong with you and me:
So much my conscience whispers in your ear,
Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear.

[Enter the Sheriff of Northamptonshire, who whispers to Essex.]

ESSEX.
My liege, here is the strangest controversy,
Come from the country to be judg'd by you,
That e'er I heard: shall I produce the men?

KING JOHN.
Let them approach.--

[Exit SHERIFF.]

Our abbeys and our priories shall pay
This expedition's charge.

[Re-enter Sheriff, with ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE and PHILIP, his
bastard Brother.]

What men are you?

BASTARD.
Your faithful subject I, a gentleman
Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son,
As I suppose, to Robert Falconbridge,--
A soldier by the honour-giving hand
Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field.

KING JOHN.
What art thou?

ROBERT.
The son and heir to that same Falconbridge.

KING JOHN.
Is that the elder, and art thou the heir?
You came not of one mother then, it seems.

BASTARD.
Most 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 heaven and to my mother:--
Of that I doubt, as all men's children may.

ELINOR.
Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame thy mother,
And wound her honour with this diffidence.

BASTARD.
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:
Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land!

KING JOHN.
A good blunt fellow.--Why, being younger born,
Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?

BASTARD.
I know not why, except to get the land.
But once he slander'd me with bastardy:
But whe'er I be as true begot or no,
That still 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 yourself.
If old 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 heaven thanks I was not like to thee!

KING JOHN.
Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here!

ELINOR.
He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face;
The accent of his tongue affecteth him:
Do you not read some tokens of my son
In the large composition of this man?

KING JOHN.
Mine eye hath well examined his parts,
And finds them perfect Richard.--Sirrah, speak,
What doth move you to claim your brother's land?

BASTARD.
Because he hath a half-face, like my father;
With half that face would he have all my land:
A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a-year!

ROBERT.
My gracious liege, when that my father liv'd,
Your brother did employ my father much,--

BASTARD.
Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land:
Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother.

ROBERT.
And once despatch'd him in an embassy
To Germany, there with the emperor
To treat of high affairs touching that time.
The advantage of his absence took the King,
And in the meantime sojourn'd at my father's;
Where how he did prevail I shame 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 speak himself,--
When this same lusty 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.

KING JOHN.
Sirrah, your brother is legitimate;
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him;
And if she did play false, the fault was hers;
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands
That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother,
Who, as you say, took pains to get this son,
Had of your father claim'd this son for his?
In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept
This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world;
In sooth, he might; then, if he were my brother's,
My brother might not claim him; nor your father,
Being none of his, refuse him. This concludes,--
My mother's son did get your father's heir;
Your father's heir must have your father's land.

ROBERT.
Shall then my father's will be of no force
To dispossess that child which is not his?

BASTARD.
Of no more force to dispossess me, sir,
Than was his will to get me, as I think.

ELINOR.
Whether hadst thou rather be a Falconbridge,
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land,
Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion,
Lord of thy presence and no land beside?

BASTARD.
Madam, an if my brother had my shape
And I had his, Sir Robert's his, like him;
And if my legs were two such riding-rods,
My arms such eel-skins stuff'd, my face so thin
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose
Lest men should say 'Look where three-farthings goes!'
And, to his shape, were heir to all this land,
Would I might never stir from off this place,
I would give it every foot to have this face;
I would not be Sir Nob in any case.

ELINOR.
I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune,
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?
I am a soldier, and now bound to France.

BASTARD.
Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance:
Your face hath got five hundred pound a-year;
Yet sell your face for fivepence and 'tis dear.--
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.

ELINOR.
Nay, I would have you go before me thither.

BASTARD.
Our country manners give our betters way.

KING JOHN.
What is thy name?

BASTARD.
Philip, my liege, so is my name begun;
Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son.

KING JOHN.
From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bear'st:
Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great,--
Arise Sir Richard and Plantagenet.

BASTARD.
Brother by the mother's side, give me your hand:
My father gave me honour, yours gave land.--
Now blessed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, Sir Robert was away!

ELINOR.
The very spirit of Plantagenet!--
I am thy grandam, Richard; call me so.

BASTARD.
Madam, by chance, but not by truth; what though?
Something about, a little from the right,
  In at the window, or else o'er the hatch;
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 still well shot;
And I am I, howe'er I was begot.

KING JOHN.
Go, Falconbridge; now hast thou 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.

BASTARD.
Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee!
For thou wast got i' th' way of honesty.

[Exeunt 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 catechize
My picked man of countries:--'My dear sir,'--
Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin,--
'I shall beseech you'--that is question now;
And then comes answer like an 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 dialogue of compliment,
And talking of the Alps and Apennines,
The Pyrenean and the river Po,--
It draws toward 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 habit 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 FALCONBRIDGE, and JAMES GURNEY.]

O me, 'tis my mother!--w now, good lady!
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?
Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so?

LADY FalcoNBRIDGE.
Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend 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?

GURNEY.
Good leave, good Philip.

BASTARD.
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 not get me; Sir Robert could not do it,--
We know his handiwork:--therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholding for these limbs?
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg.

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 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:
Then, good my mother, let me know my father,--
Some proper man, I hope: who was it, mother?

LADY FalcoNBRIDGE.
Hast thou denied thyself a Falconbridge?

BASTARD.
As faithfully as I deny the devil.

LADY FALCONBRIDGE.
King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy 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.

BASTARD.
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 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!
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.

[Exeunt.]

 At the royal court of England, King John chills out on his big, shiny throne, surrounded by his posse: the noblemen Pembroke, Essex, and Salisbury. King John's posse also includes the adviser he trusts most all... his mom, Queen Eleanor. Yep. King John's kind of a mama's boy--and we don't mean that in a bad way. Eleanor was one powerful lady. But King John and his cronies aren't the only ones there: there's also a visitor, Chatillon, the snooty French ambassador. Chatillon's got a message from King Philip of France: Philip doesn't think John has a legal right to the throne and wants him to step down ASAP. Better yet, King John should just go ahead and fork over the English crown and a bunch of territories to John's young nephew, Arthur, who should have inherited the throne. Like any self-respecting English monarch would, King John politely tells the French ambassador to take a hike. Oh yeah, and he also says that he's going to invade France himself, just to teach that nasty French king a lesson. Before Chatillon leaves, King John tells him to hurry on home because the English army will be on France's doorstep faster than you can say "cannonball." Once the French ambassador is gone, Queen Eleanor chimes in. She says this is all that "ambitious" Constance's fault. Constance is Arthur's mom, and she really wants her little boy to be king. We'll meet her later. Queen Eleanor's also not crazy about her son going to war over what should be a private family matter, and she's not afraid to tell him about it. At this point, the Earl of Essex announces that two people have come from the countryside to have the king settle a dispute. "Sure. Why not?" says our King. Then King John makes a side comment about how he's going to let the monasteries pay for his war with France. That's Shakespeare's big shout-out to the historical King John's famous habit of increasing taxes. In come the plaintiff and the defendant: Robert Falconbridge and his older brother Philip. As it turns out, the case totally belongs in front of someone like Judge Judy, but this is a Shakespeare play so it goes before the king. The defendant, a guy named "Philip the Bastard" claims to be the firstborn son of a dead guy named Robert Falconbridge Sr.--and therefore the rightful heir to his wealth. The plaintiff, Robert Falconbridge, Jr., claims that Philip had another father and is thus a bastard without any legal right to inherit from Robert Falconbridge, Sr. Brain Snack: This whole showdown between Philip the Bastard and Robert is about something called primogeniture, the system by which the eldest legitimate sons inherits all his father's wealth, titles, lands, power, debt, etc. In other words, younger brothers, "bastards," and daughters usually get shafted. Because Philip is a "bastard," his little brother Robert thinks he shouldn't get all his dead dad's money. If you've read King Lear, then you know that Shakespeare's kind of obsessed with primogeniture and "bastards." While Philip is talking, Queen Eleanor and King John are all, "Gee, that Philip sure does look a lot like King Richard I." Richard I would be John's dead brother and Queen Eleanor's dead son. Then Robert speaks up. He says that, actually, King Richard was Philip's dad: Richard got busy with his mom while his dad was away a business trip. Robert finishes his tale by saying that his father, on his deathbed, disinherited Philip and made him his heir. King John believes Robert's story . But King John disagrees about the legal consequences. He cites a law that states that once a woman is married, her husband is technically considered the legal baby-daddy of any child she bears, no matter who the biological father actually is. Robert objects, but it doesn't get him anywhere. What's worse, the Bastard now starts bagging on him for not getting to inherit his father's land. At this point, Queen Eleanor is all, "Hey, kid. who would you rather have as a father? That lame Robert Falconbridge guy? Or my awesome dead son, Richard the Lionheart?" Guess who the Bastard picks? Philip agrees to stop claiming Robert Falconbridge, Sr., as his dad. He also gives up the land he inherited. In return, King John makes Philip a knight, and Eleanor tells him to start calling her Grandma. After this episode is over, King John announces that they have to hurry up and get ready to go to war with France. Everybody leaves the stage except for Philip the Bastard. The Bastard goes into a soliloquy . In his speech, the Bastard imagines how awesome his new life is going to be. Then he announces his plans to use deception to climb further up the social ladder. At the end of this speech, the Bastard sees someone arriving on horseback: it's his mom , and she's with some guy named James Gurney. The Bastard wants to have a private chat with mom, so he sends away her friend. The Bastard breaks the news to his mom that he just renounced her dead husband . Lady Falconbridge is cool with that. In fact, she's sort of relieved and fesses up to having had a torrid affair with the Bastard's real bio dad. The Bastard and his mom then leave the stage together, and he promises to introduce her to his "new" relatives.

