Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Sonia Massai
Not Peer Reviewed

Edward III (Quarto 1, 1596)


The Raigne of king
1175Now boy thou hearest what thundring terror tis,
To buckle for a kingdomes souerentie,
The earth with giddie trembling when it shakes,
Or when the exalations of the aire,
Breakes in extremitie of lightning flash,
1180Affrights not more then kings when they dispose,
To shew the rancor of their high swolne harts,
Retreae is sounded, one side hath the worse,
Retreate.
O if it be the French, sweete fortune turne,
And in thy turning change the forward winds,
1185That with aduantage of a sauoring skie,
Our men may vanquish and thither flie.
Enter Marriner.
My hart misgiues, say mirror of pale death,
To whome belongs the honor of this day,
1190Relate I pray thee, if thy breath will serue,
The sad discourse of this discomfiture.
Mar. I will my Lord.
My gratious soueraigne, Fraunce hath tane the foyle,
And boasting Edward triumphs with successe;
1195These Iron harted Nauies,
When last I was reporter to your grace,
Both full of angry spleene of hope and feare:
Hasting to meete each other in the face,
At last conioynd, and by their Admirall,
1200Our Admirall encountred manie shot,
By this the other that beheld these twaine,
Giue earnest peny of a further wracke,
Like fiery Dragons tooke their haughty flight,
And likewise meeting, from their smoky wombes,
1205Sent many grym Embassadors of death,
Then gan the day to turne to gloomy night,
And darkenes did as wel inclose the quicke,
As those that were but newly reft of life,
No leasure serud for friends to bid farewell,
1210And if it had, the hideous noise was such,
As