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  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    1555Alarum. Enter a many French men flying.
    After them Prince Edward runing.
    Then enter King Iohn and Duke of Loraine.
    Iohn. Oh Lorrain say, what meane our men to fly,
    Our nomber is far greater then our foes,
    1560Lor. The garrison of Genoaes my Lorde,
    That cam from Paris weary with their march,
    Grudging to be soddenly imployd,
    No sooner in the forefront tooke their place.
    But straite retyring so dismaide the rest,
    1565As likewise they betook themselues to flight
    In which for hast to make a safe escape,
    More in the clustering throng are prest to death,
    Then by the ennimie a thousand fold.
    K. Io: O haplesse fortune, let vs yet assay,
    1570If we can counsell some of them to stay.
    Enter King Edward and Audley.
    Ki, E: Lord Audley, whiles our sonne is in the chase,
    With draw our powers vnto this little hill,
    And heere a season let vs breath our selues,
    1575Au. I will my Lord. Exit, sound Retreat.
    K. Ed. Iust dooming heauen, whose secret prouidence,
    To our grosse iudgement is inscrutable,
    How are we bound to praise thy wondrous works,
    That hast this day giuen way vnto the right,
    1580And made the wicked stumble at them selues.
    Enter Artoys.
    Rescue king Edward, rescue, for thy sonne,
    Kin: Rescue Artoys, what is he prisoner?
    Or by violence fell beside his horse.
    1585Ar. Neither my Lord, but narrowly beset,
    With turning Frenchmen, whom he did persue,
    As tis impossible that he should scape.
    Except your highnes presently descend.
    Kin: Tut let him fight, we gaue him armes to day,
    1590And he is laboring for a knighthood man.
    Enter Derby.
    Da: The Prince my Lord, the Prince, oh succour him,
    Hees close incompast with a world of odds.
    Ki: Then will he win a world of honor to,
    1595If he by vallour can redeeme him thence,
    If not, what remedy, we haue more sonnes,
    Then one to comfort our declyning age.
    Enter Audley.
    Au, Renowned Edward, giue me leaue I pray,
    1600To lead my souldiers where I may releeue,
    Your Graces sonne, in danger to be slayne,
    The snares of French, like Emmets on a banke,
    Muster about him whilest he Lion like,
    Intangled in the net of their assaults,
    1605Frantiquely wrends and byts the wouen toyle,
    But all in vaine, he cannot free him selfe.
    K: Ed: Audley content, I will not haue a man,
    On paine of death sent forth to succour him:
    This is the day, ordaynd by desteny,
    1610To season his courage with those greeuous thoughts,
    That if he breaketh out, Nestors yeares on earth,
    Will make him sauor still of this exployt.
    Dar: Ah but he shall not liue to see those dayes,
    Ki: Why then his Ephitaph, is lasting prayse.
    1615An: Yet good my Lord, tis too much wilfulnes,
    To let his blood be spilt that may be saude,
    Kin. Exclayme no more, for none of you can tell,
    Whether a borrowed aid will serue or no,
    Perhapps he is already slayne or tane:
    1620And dare a Falcon when shees in her flight,
    And euer after sheele be huggard like:
    Let Edward be deliuered by our hands,
    And still in danger hele expect the like,
    But if himselfe, himselfe redeeme from thence,
    1625He wil haue vanquisht cheerefull death and feare,
    And euer after dread their force no more,
    Then if they were but babes or Captiue slaues.
    Aud. O cruell Father, farewell Edward then.
    Da: Farewell sweete Prince, the hope of chiualry,
    1630Art: O would my life might ransome him from death.
    K. Ed: But soft me thinkes I heare,
    The dismall charge of Trumpets loud retreat:
    All are not slayne I hope that went with him,
    Some will returne with tidings good or bad.
    1635Enter Prince Edward in tryumph, bearing in his hande his
    shiuered Launce, and the King of Boheme, borne before,
    wrapt in the Coullours: They runne and imbrace him.
    Aud, O ioyfull sight, victorious Edward liues.
    Der: Welcome braue Prince.
    1640Ki: Welcome Plantagenet. kneele andkisse his
    fathers hand
    Pr. First hauing donne my duety as beseemed
    Lords I regreet you all with harty thanks,
    And now behold after my winters toyle,
    My paynefull voyage on the boystrous sea,
    1645Of warres deuouring gulphes and steely rocks,
    I bring my fraught vnto the wished port,
    My Summers hope, my trauels sweet reward:
    And heere with humble duety I present,
    This sacrifice, this first fruit of my sword,
    1650Cropt and cut downe euen at the gate of death:
    The king of Boheme father whome I slue,
    Whom you sayd, had intrencht me round about,
    And laye as thicke vpon my battered crest,
    As on an Anuell with their ponderous glaues,
    1655Yet marble courage, still did vnderprop,
    And when my weary armes with often blowes,
    Like the continuall laboring Wood-mans Axe,
    That is enioynd to fell a load of Oakes,
    Began to faulter, straight I would recouer:
    1660My gifts you gaue me, and my zealous vow,
    And then new courage made me fresh againe,
    That in despight I craud my passage forth,
    And put the multitude to speedy flyght: his Swordborne by a
    Soldier.
    Lo this hath Edwards hand fild your request,
    1665And done I hope the duety of a Knight
    Ki: I well thou hast deserud a knight-hood Ned,
    And therefore with thy sword, yet reaking warme,
    With blood of those that fought to be thy bane,
    Arise Prince Edward, trusty knight at armes,
    1670This day thou hast confounded me with ioy,
    And proude thy selfe fit heire vnto a king:
    Pr: Heere is a note my gratious Lord of those,
    That in this conflict of our foes were slaine,
    Eleuen Princes of esteeme, Foure score Barons,
    1675A hundred and twenty knights, and thirty thousand
    Common souldiers, and of our men a thousand.
    Our God be praised, Now Iohn of Fraunce I hope,
    Thou knowest King Edward for no wantonesse,
    No loue sicke cockney, nor his souldiers iades,
    1680But which way is the fearefull king escapt?
    Pr: Towards Poyctiers noble father, and his sonnes,
    King. Ned, thou and Audley shall pursue them still,
    Myselfe and Derby will to Calice streight;
    And there begyrt that Hauen towne with seege:
    1685Now lies it on an vpshot, therefore strike,
    And wistlie follow whiles the games on foote.
    Ki. What Pictures this.
    Pr: A Pellican my Lord,
    Wounding her bosome with her crooked beak,
    1690That so her nest of young ones might be fed,
    With drops of blood that issue from her hart,
    The motto Sic & vos, and so should you, Exeunt.