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 FAULCONBRIDGE. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge? BASTARD. As faithfully as I deny the devil. LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. King Richard Cœur-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._] 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, Louis, Constance, Arthur and Forces. LOUIS. Before Angiers well met, 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 this brave duke came early to his grave. 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. Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. ARTHUR. 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, But with a heart full of unstained love. Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke. LOUIS. A noble boy. Who would not do thee right?