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About this text

  • Title: Edward III (Modern)
  • Editors: Amy Lidster, Sonia Massai

  • Copyright Sonia Massai and Amy Lidster. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editors: Amy Lidster, Sonia Massai
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Edward III (Modern)

    [Scene 6]
    1240Enter two Frenchmen, a Woman and two little children, meet them another citizen.
    1 Frenchman
    Well met, my masters. How now, what's the news?
    And wherefore are ye laden thus with stuff?
    What, is it quarter day that you remove,
    1245And carry bag and baggage too?
    2 Frenchman
    Quarter day, ay, and quartering day I fear.
    Have ye not heard the news that flies abroad?
    1 Frenchman
    What news?
    3 Frenchman
    How the French navy is destroyed at sea,
    1250And that the English army is arrived.
    1 Frenchman
    What then?
    2 Frenchman
    What then, quoth you? Why is't not time to fly,
    When envy and destruction is so nigh?
    1 Frenchman
    Content thee, man; they are far enough from hence,
    1255And will be met, I warrant ye, to their cost
    Before they break so far into the realm.
    2 Frenchman
    Ay, so the grasshopper doth spend the time
    In mirthful jollity till winter come,
    And then too late he would redeem his time
    1260When frozen cold hath nipped his careless head;
    He that no sooner will provide a cloak
    Than when he sees it doth begin to rain,
    May peradventure, for his negligence,
    Be throughly washed when he suspects it not.
    1265We that have charge and such a train as this
    Must look in time to look for them and us,
    Lest when we would, we cannot be relieved.
    1 Frenchman
    Belike you then despair of ill success,
    And think your country will be subjugate.
    12703 Frenchman
    We cannot tell; 'tis good to fear the worst.
    1 Frenchman
    Yet rather fight than, like unnatural sons,
    Forsake your loving parents in distress.
    2 Frenchman
    Tush, they that have already taken arms
    Are many fearful millions in respect
    1275Of that small handful of our enemies.
    But 'tis a rightful quarrel must prevail:
    Edward is son unto our late king's sister,
    Where John Valois is three degrees removed.
    Woman
    Besides, there goes a prophecy abroad,
    1280Published by one that was a friar once,
    Whose oracles have many times proved true,
    And now, he says, the time will shortly come
    Whenas a lion rousèd in the west
    Shall carry hence the fleur-de-lis of France.
    1285These I can tell ye, and such like surmises
    Strike many Frenchmen cold unto the heart.
    Enter a Frenchman.
    4 Frenchman
    Fly, countrymen and citizens of France!
    Sweet flow'ring peace, the root of happy life,
    1290Is quite abandoned and expulsed the land,
    Instead of whom, ransack-constraining war
    Sits like to ravens upon your houses' tops.
    Slaughter and mischief walk within your streets
    And unrestrained make havoc as they pass,
    1295The form whereof even now myself beheld,
    Upon this fair mountain whence I came:
    For so far off as I directed mine eyes,
    I might perceive five cities all on fire,
    Cornfields and vineyards burning like an oven;
    1300And as the leaking vapor in the wind
    Turned but aside I likewise might discern
    The poor inhabitants, escaped the flame,
    Fall numberless upon the soldiers' pikes.
    Three ways these dreadful ministers of wrath
    1305Do tread the measures of their tragic march:
    Upon the right hand comes the conquering king,
    Upon the left his hot unbridled son,
    And in the midst their nation's glittering host;
    All which, though distant, yet conspire in one
    1310To leave a desolation where they come.
    Fly, therefore, citizens. If you be wise,
    Seek out some habitation further off;
    Here if you stay, your wives will be abused,
    Your treasure shared before your weeping eyes.
    1315Shelter yourselves for now the storm doth rise.
    Away, away! Methinks I hear their drums.
    Ah, wretched France, I greatly fear thy fall,
    Thy glory shaketh like a tottering wall.
    Exeunt.