What do you like about the ISE? What could we do better? Please tell us in this 10-minute survey!

Start Survey

Internet Shakespeare Editions

Become a FriendSign in

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    Not Peer Reviewed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.
    My tongue is made of steele, and it shall beg
    2000My mercie on his coward burgonet.
    Tell him my colours are as red as his,
    My men as bold, our English armes as strong,
    returne him my defiance in his face.
    He. I go.
    2005Enter another.
    Pr: What newes with thee?
    He. The Duke of Normandie my Lord & master
    Pittying thy youth is so ingirt with perill,
    By me hath sent a nimble ioynted iennet,
    2010As swift as euer yet thou didst bestride,
    And therewithall he counsels thee to flie,
    Els death himself hath sworne that thou shalt die.
    P: Back with the beast vnto the beast that sent him
    Tell him I cannot sit a cowards horse,
    2015Bid him to daie bestride the iade himselfe,
    For I will staine my horse quite ore with bloud,
    And double guild my spurs, but I will catch him,
    So tell the capring boy, and get thee gone.

    Enter another.
    2020He: Edward of Wales, Phillip the second sonne
    To the most mightie christian king of France,
    Seeing thy bodies liuing date expird,
    All full of charitie and christian loue,
    Commends this booke full fraught with prayers,
    2025To thy faire hand, and for thy houre of lyfe,
    Intreats thee that thou meditate therein,
    And arme thy soule for hir long iourney towards.
    Thus haue I done his bidding, and returne.
    Pr. Herald of Phillip greet thy Lord from me,
    2030All good that he can send I can receiue,
    But thinkst thou not the vnaduised boy,
    Hath wrongd himselfe in this far tendering me,
    Happily he cannot praie without the booke,
    I thinke him no diuine extemporall,
    2035Then render backe this common place of prayer,