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    Not Peer Reviewed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.
    2225Vp, 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,
    My soule doth prophesie we win the daie. Exeunt.
    2230Allarum. Enter king Iohn.
    Our multitudes are in themselues confounded,
    Dismayed, and distraught, swift starting feare
    Hath buzd a cold dismaie through all our armie,
    and euerie pettie disaduantage promptes
    2235The 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
    Rebell against vs, finde my selfe attainted
    2240With 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,
    Our drums strike nothing but discouragement,
    2245Our trumpets sound dishonor, and retire,
    The spirit of feare that feareth nought but death,
    Cowardly workes confusion on it selfe.
    Enter Phillip.
    Plucke out your eies, and see not this daies shame,
    2250An 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,
    Araid and fenst in al accomplements,
    2255Ioh: 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,
    This daie hath set derision on the French,
    2260and 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,