KING JOHN. Here have we war for war and blood for blood, Controlment for controlment: so answer France. CHATILLION. 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, Chatillion. [_Exeunt Chatillion and Pembroke._] QUEEN ELEANOR. 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. QUEEN ELEANOR. 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 a Sheriff, 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. Enter 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 Faulconbridge, A soldier by the honour-giving hand Of Cœur-de-lion knighted in the field. KING JOHN. What art thou? ROBERT. The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge. 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. QUEEN ELEANOR. 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, he 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?