Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Sonia Massai
Not Peer Reviewed

Edward III (Quarto 1, 1596)


Allarum. Enter prince Edward and Artoys.
Art: How fares your grace, are you not shot my Lord?
2215Pri: No deare Artoys, but choakt with dust and smoake,
And stept aside for breath and fresher aire.
Art. Breath then, and too it againe, the amazed French
are quite distract with gazing on the crowes,
and were our quiuers full of shafts againe,
2220Your grace should see a glorious day of this,
O for more arrowes Lord, thats our want.
Pri. Courage Artoys, a fig for feathered shafts,
When feathered foules doo bandie on our side,
What need we fight, and sweate, and keepe a coile,
2225When railing crowes outscolde our aduersaries
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,
Ki. Make vp once more with me the twentith part
2265Of those that liue, are men inow to quaile,
The feeble handfull on the aduerse part.
Ch. Then charge againe, if heauen be not opposd
VVe cannot loose the daie.
Kin. On awaie.
Exeunt
2270
Enter Audley wounded, & rescued by two squirs.
Esq. How fares my Lord;
Aud. Euen as a man may do
That dines at such a bloudie feast as this.
Esq. I hope my Lord that is no mortall scarre,
2275Aud. No matter if it be, the count is cast,
and in the worst ends but a mortall man,
Good friends conuey me to the princely Edward
That in the crimson brauerie of my bloud,
I may become him with saluting him,
2280Ile smile and tell him that this open scarre,
Doth end the haruest of his Audleys warre.
Ex.