Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Sonia Massai
Not Peer Reviewed

Edward III (Quarto 1, 1596)


Edward the third.
Vp, vp Artoys, the ground it selfe is armd,
Fire containing flint, command our bowes
To hurle awaie their pretie colored Ew,
and to it with stones, awaie Artoys, awaie,
2230My soule doth prophesie we win the daie.
Exeunt.
Allarum. Enter king Iohn.
Our multitudes are in themselues confounded,
Dismayed, and distraught, swift starting feare
Hath buzd a cold dismaie through all our armie,
2235and euerie pettie disaduantage promptes
The feare possessed abiect soule to flie,
My selfe whose spirit is steele to their dull lead,
What with recalling of the prophesie,
and that our natiue stones from English armes
2240Rebell against vs, finde my selfe attainted
With strong surprise of weake and yeelding feare.
Enter Charles.
Fly father flie, the French do kill the French,
Some that would stand, let driue at some that flie,
2245Our drums strike nothing but discouragement,
Our trumpets sound dishonor, and retire,
The spirit of feare that feareth nought but death,
Cowardly workes confusion on it selfe.
Enter Phillip.
2250Plucke out your eies, and see not this daies shame,
An arme hath beate an armie, one poore Dauid
Hath with a stone foild twentie stout Goliahs,
Some twentie naked staruelings with small flints,
Hath driuen backe a puisant host of men,
2255Araid and fenst in al accomplements,
Ioh: Mordiu they quait at vs, and kill vs vp,
No lesse than fortie thousand wicked elders,
Haue fortie leane slaues this daie stoned to death.
Ch: O that I were some other countryman,
2260This daie hath set derision on the French,
and all the world wilt blurt and scorne at vs.
Kin: What is there no hope left?
Pr: No hope but death to burie vp our shame,
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