Now John in France, and lately John of France,

15.32285Thy bloody ensigns are my captive colors,

15.42286And you, high vaunting Charles of Normandy,

15.52287That once today sent me a horse to fly,

15.62288Are now the subjects of my clemency.

15.72289Fie, lords, is't not a shame that English boys,

15.82290Whose early days are yet not worth a beard,

15.92291Should in the bosom of your kingdom thus,

15.102292One against twenty, beat you up together?

Thy fortune, not thy force, hath conquered us.

An argument that heaven aids the right.

15.142295See, see, Artois doth bring with him along

15.152296The late good counsel-giver to my soul.

15.162297Welcome, Artois, and welcome Philip too.

15.172298Who now, of you or I, have need to pray?

15.182299Now is the proverb verified in you:

15.192300Too bright a morning breeds a louring day.

15.212302But say, what grim discouragement comes here?

15.222303Alas, what thousand armèd men of France

15.232304Have writ that note of death in Audley's face?

15.242305Speak thou, that woost death with thy careless smile

15.252306And lookst so merrily upon thy grave

15.262307As if thou wert enamored on thine end:

15.272308What hungry sword hath so bereaved thy face

15.282309And lopped a true friend from my loving soul?

O Prince, thy sweet bemoaning speech to me

15.302311Is as a mournful knell to one dead sick.

Dear Audley, if my tongue ring out thy end,

15.322313My arms shall be thy grave. What may I do

15.332314To win thy life or to revenge thy death?

15.342315If thou wilt drink the blood of captive kings,

15.352316Or that it were restorative, command

15.362317A health of kings' blood, and I'll drink to thee.

15.372318If honor may dispense for thee with death,

15.382319The never-dying honor of this day

15.392320Share wholly, Audley, to thyself and live.

Victorious Prince, that thou art so, behold

15.412322A caesar's fame in kings' captivity.

15.422323If I could hold dim death but at a bay

15.432324Till I did see my liege, thy royal father,

15.442325My soul should yield this castle of my flesh,

15.452326This mangled tribute with all willingness

15.462327To darkness, consummation, dust and worms.

Cheerily, bold man; thy soul is all too proud

15.482329To yield her city for one little breach,

15.492330Should be divorcèd from her earthly spouse

15.502331By the soft temper of a Frenchman's sword.

15.512332Lo, to repair thy life I give to thee

15.522333Three thousand marks a year in English land.

I take thy gift to pay the debts I owe:

15.542335These two poor esquires redeemed me from the French

15.552336With lusty and dear hazard of their lives;

15.562337What thou hast given me I give to them,

15.572338And as thou lov'st me, Prince, lay thy consent

15.582339To this bequeath in my last testament.

Renownèd Audley, live and have from me

15.602341This gift twice doubled to these esquires and thee;

15.612342But live or die, what thou hast given away

15.622343To these and theirs shall lasting freedom stay.

15.632344Come, gentlemen, I will see my friend bestowed

15.642345Within an easy litter; then we'll march

15.652346Proudly toward Calais with triumphant pace

15.662347Unto my royal father; and there bring

15.672348The tribute of my wars, fair France his king.