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Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Edward III (Quarto 1, 1596)
  • Editor: Sonia Massai

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    Not Peer Reviewed

    Edward III (Quarto 1, 1596)

    Edward the third.
    1925And eie lesse terror of all ending night.
    Au. This suddaine, mightie, and expedient head,
    That they haue made, faire Prince is wonderfull.
    Before vs in the vallie lies the king,
    Vantagd with all that heauen and earth can yeeld,
    1930His partie stronger battaild then our whole:
    His sonne the brauing Duke of Normandie,
    Hath trimd the Mountaine on our right hand vp,
    In shining plate, that now the aspiring hill,
    Shewes like a siluer quarrie, or an orbe
    1935Aloft the which the Banners bannarets,
    And new replenisht pendants cuff the aire,
    And beat the windes, that for their gaudinesse,
    Struggles to kisse them on our left hand lies,
    Phillip the younger issue of the king,
    1940Coting the other hill in such arraie,
    That all his guilded vpright pikes do seeme,
    Streight trees of gold, the pendant leaues,
    And their deuice of Antique heraldry,
    Quartred in collours seeming sundy fruits,
    1945Makes it the Orchard of the Hesperides,
    Behinde vs two the hill doth beare his height,
    For like a halfe Moone opening but one way,
    It rounds vs in, there at our backs are lodgd,
    The fatall Crosbowes, and the battaile there,
    1950Is gouernd by the rough Chattillion,
    Then thus it stands, the valleie for our flight,
    The king binds in, the hils on either hand,
    Are proudly royalized by his sonnes,
    And on the Hill behind stands certaine death,
    1955In pay and seruice with Chattillion.
    Pr: Deathes name is much more mightie then his deeds,
    Thy parcelling this power hath made it more,
    As many sands as these my hands can hold,
    are but my handful of so many sands,
    1960Then all the world, and call it but a power:
    Easely tane vp and quickly throwne away,
    But if I stand to count them sand by sand
    2 The