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  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    The Reign of King Edward the Third
    [Scene 1]
    Enter King Edward, Derby, Prince Edward, Audley, [Warwick] and Artois.
    5King Edward
    Robert of Artois, banished though thou be
    From France, thy native country, yet with us
    Thou shalt retain as great a seigniory,
    For we create thee Earl of Richmond here.
    10And now go forwards with our pedigree,
    Who next succeeded Philip le Beau?
    Artois
    Three sons of his, which all successively
    Did sit upon their father's regal throne,
    Yet died and left no issue of their loins.
    15King Edward
    But was my mother sister unto those?
    Artois
    She was, my lord, and only Isabel
    Was all the daughters that this Philip had,
    Whom afterward your father took to wife;
    And from the fragrant garden of her womb
    20Your gracious self, the flower of Europe's hope,
    Derivèd is inheritor to France.
    But note the rancor of rebellious minds:
    When thus the lineage of le Beau was out,
    The French obscured your mother's privilege,
    25And though she were the next of blood, proclaimed
    John of the house of Valois now their king.
    The reason was, they say the realm of France,
    Replete with princes of great parentage,
    Ought not admit a governor to rule,
    30Except he be descended of the male;
    And that's the special ground of their contempt,
    Wherewith they study to exclude your grace.
    King Edward
    But they shall find that forgèd ground of theirs
    To be but dusty heaps of brittle sand.
    35Artois
    Perhaps it will be thought a heinous thing
    That I, a Frenchman, should discover this;
    But heaven I call to record of my vows,
    It is not hate nor any private wrong,
    But love unto my country and the right
    40Provokes my tongue thus lavish in report.
    You are the lineal watchman of our peace,
    And John of Valois indirectly climbs.
    What then should subjects but embrace their king?
    Ah, wherein may our duty more be seen
    45Than striving to rebate a tyrant's pride,
    And place the true shepherd of our commonwealth?
    King Edward
    This counsel, Artois, like to fruitful showers,
    Hath added growth unto my dignity;
    And by the fiery vigor of thy words
    50Hot courage is engendered in my breast,
    Which heretofore was racked in ignorance,
    But now doth mount with golden wings of fame
    And will approve fair Isabel's descent,
    Able to yoke their stubborn necks with steel
    55That spurn against my sovereignty in France.
    Sound a horn.
    A messenger. -- Lord Audley, know from whence.
    Enter a messenger, Lorraine.
    Audley
    The Duke of Lorraine, having crossed the seas,
    Entreats he may have conference with your highness.
    60King Edward
    Admit him, lords, that we may hear the news. --
    Say, Duke of Lorraine, wherefore art thou come?
    Lorraine
    The most renownèd prince, King John of France,
    Doth greet thee Edward, and by me commands
    That for so much as by his liberal gift
    65The Guienne dukedom is entailed to thee,
    Thou do him lowly homage for the same.
    And for that purpose here I summon thee:
    Repair to France within these forty days,
    That there, according as the custom is,
    70Thou mayst be sworn true liegeman to our king;
    Or else thy title in that province dies,
    And he himself will repossess the place.
    King Edward
    See how occasion laughs me in the face:
    No sooner minded to prepare for France,
    75But straight I am invited, nay with threats,
    Upon a penalty enjoined to come!
    'Twere but a childish part to say him nay.
    Lorraine, return this answer to thy lord:
    I mean to visit him as he requests,
    80But how? Not servilely disposed to bend,
    But like a conqueror to make him bow;
    His lame unpolished shifts are come to light,
    And truth hath pulled the vizard from his face
    That set a gloss upon his arrogance.
    85Dare he command a fealty in me?
    Tell him the crown that he usurps is mine,
    And where he sets his foot he ought to kneel;
    'Tis not a petty dukedom that I claim,
    But all the whole dominions of the realm,
    90Which if with grudging he refuse to yield,
    I'll take away those borrowed plumes of his
    And send him naked to the wilderness.
    Lorraine
    Then, Edward, here in spite of all thy lords,
    I do pronounce defiance to thy face.
    95Prince
    Defiance, Frenchman? We rebound it back,
    Even to the bottom of thy master's throat;
    And be it spoke with reverence of the King,
    My gracious father, and these other lords,
    I hold thy message but as scurrilous,
    100And him that sent thee like the lazy drone
    Crept up by stealth unto the eagle's nest,
    From whence we'll shake him with so rough a storm
    As others shall be warnèd by his harm.
    Warwick
    Bid him leave off the lion's case he wears
    105Lest, meeting with the lion in the field,
    He chance to tear him piecemeal for his pride.
    Artois
    The soundest counsel I can give his grace
    Is to surrender ere he be constrained.
    A voluntary mischief hath less scorn
    110Than when reproach with violence is born.
    Lorraine
    Degenerate traitor, viper to the place
    Where thou wast fostered in thine infancy!
    Bearst thou a part in this conspiracy?
    He draws his sword.
    115King Edward
    [Drawing his sword.] Lorraine, behold the sharpness of this steel:
    Fervent desire that sits against my heart
    Is far more thorny-pricking than this blade,
    That with the nightingale I shall be scarred
    As oft as I dispose myself to rest
    120Until my colors be displayed in France.
    This is thy final answer, so be gone.
    Lorraine
    It is not that, nor any English brave,
    Afflicts me so, as doth his poisoned view:
    That is most false, should most of all be true.
    [Exit Lorraine.]
    125King Edward
    Now, Lord, our fleeting bark is under sail,
    Our gage is thrown and war is soon begun,
    But not so quickly brought unto an end.
    Enter Montague.
    But wherefore comes Sir William Montague?
    130How stands the league between the Scot and us?
    Montague
    Cracked and dissevered, my renownèd lord:
    The treacherous king no sooner was informed
    Of your withdrawing of your army back,
    But straight, forgetting of his former oath,
    135He made invasion on the bordering towns:
    Berwick is won, Newcastle spoiled and lost,
    And now the tyrant hath begirt with siege
    The castle of Roxborough, where enclosed
    The Countess Salisbury is like to perish.
    140King Edward
    That is thy daughter, Warwick, is it not?
    Whose husband hath in Brittany served so long
    About the planting of Lord Mountford there?
    Warwick
    It is, my lord.
    King Edward
    Ignoble David, hast thou none to grieve
    145But silly ladies with thy threat'ning arms?
    But I will make you shrink your snaily horns!
    First therefore, Audley, this shall be thy charge:
    Go levy footmen for our wars in France;
    And, Ned, take muster of our men at arms,
    150In every shire elect a several band,
    Let them be soldiers of a lusty spirit
    Such as dread nothing but dishonor's blot.
    Be wary, therefore, since we do commence
    A famous war and with so mighty a nation.
    155Derby, be thou ambassador for us
    Unto our father-in-law, the Earl of Hainault;
    Make him acquainted with our enterprise,
    And likewise will him with our own allies
    That are in Flanders, to solicit too
    160The Emperor of Allemagne in our name.
    Myself, whilst you are jointly thus employed,
    Will, with these forces that I have at hand,
    March and once more repulse the traitorous Scot.
    But, sirs, be resolute, we shall have wars
    165On every side; and Ned, thou must begin
    Now to forget thy study and thy books,
    And ure thy shoulders to an armor's weight.
    Prince
    As cheerful sounding to my youthful spleen
    This tumult is of war's increasing broils,
    170As at the coronation of a king
    The joyful clamors of the people are
    When Ave Caesar they pronounce aloud;
    Within this school of honor I shall learn
    Either to sacrifice my foes to death,
    175Or in a rightful quarrel spend my breath.
    Then cheerfully forward each a several way,
    In great affairs 'tis naught to use delay.
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 2]
    Enter the Countess [of Salisbury, above].
    180Countess
    Alas, how much in vain my poor eyes gaze
    For succor that my sovereign should send.
    Ah, cousin Montague, I fear thou wants
    The lively spirit sharply to solicit
    With vehement suit the King in my behalf.
    185Thou dost not tell him what a grief it is
    To be the scornful captive to a Scot,
    Either to be wooed with broad untunèd oaths,
    Or forced by rough insulting barbarism;
    Thou dost not tell him, if he here prevail,
    190How much they will deride us in the North,
    And, in their vile uncivil skipping jigs,
    Bray forth their conquest and our overthrow,
    Even in the barren, bleak and fruitless air.
    Enter [King] David, Douglas and Lorraine [below].
    195I must withdraw: the everlasting foe
    Comes to the wall; I'll closely step aside
    And list their babble, blunt and full of pride.
    King David
    My lord of Lorraine, to our brother of France
    Commend us, as the man in Christendom
    200That we most reverence and entirely love.
    Touching your embassage, return and say
    That we with England will not enter parley,
    Nor never make fair weather or take truce,
    But burn their neighbor towns and so persist
    205With eager rods beyond their city York;
    And never shall our bonny riders rest,
    Nor rusting canker have the time to eat
    Their light-borne snaffles, nor their nimble spurs,
    Nor lay aside their jacks of gimmaled mail,
    210Nor hang their staves of grainèd Scottish ash
    In peaceful wise upon their city walls,
    Nor from their buttoned tawny leathern belts
    Dismiss their biting whinyards, till your king
    Cry out, 'Enough, spare England now for pity!'
    215Farewell, and tell him that you leave us here
    Before this castle; say you came from us
    Even when we had that yielded to our hands.
    Lorraine
    I take my leave and fairly will return
    Your acceptable greeting to my king.
    Exit Lorraine.
    220King David
    Now, Douglas, to our former task again,
    For the division of this certain spoil.
    Douglas
    My liege, I crave the lady and no more.
    King David
    Nay, soft ye sir, first I must make my choice,
    And first I do bespeak her for myself.
    225Douglas
    Why then, my liege, let me enjoy her jewels.
    King David
    Those are her own, still liable to her,
    And who inherits her hath those with all.
    Enter a Scot [as messenger] in haste.
    1 Messenger
    My liege, as we were pricking on the hills
    230To fetch in booty, marching hitherward
    We might descry a mighty host of men,
    The sun reflecting on the armor showed
    A field of plate, a wood of picks advanced.
    Bethink your highness speedily herein,
    235An easy march within four hours will bring
    The hindmost rank unto this place, my liege.
    King David
    Dislodge, dislodge, it is the King of England.
    Douglas
    Jemmy, my man, saddle my bonny black.
    King David
    Meanst thou to fight, Douglas? We are too weak.
    240Douglas
    I know it well, my liege, and therefore fly.
    Countess
    My lords of Scotland, will ye stay and drink?
    King David
    She mocks at us, Douglas; I cannot endure it.
    Countess
    Say, good my lord, which is he must have the lady,
    And which her jewels? I am sure, my lords,
    245Ye will not hence till you have shared the spoils.
    King David
    She heard the messenger and heard our talk,
    And now that comfort makes her scorn at us.
    Enter another messenger.
    2 Messenger
    Arm, my good lord. Oh, we are all surprised!
    250Countess
    After the French ambassador, my liege,
    And tell him that you dare not ride to York,
    Excuse it that your bonny horse is lame.
    King David
    She heard that too, intolerable grief!
    Woman, farewell. Although I do not stay --
    Exeunt Scots.
    255Countess
    'Tis not for fear -- and yet you run away.
    O happy comfort, welcome to our house!
    The confident and boist'rous boasting Scot,
    That swore before my walls they would not back
    For all the armèd power of this land,
    260With faceless fear that ever turns his back,
    Turned hence again the blasting north-east wind
    Upon the bare report and name of arms.
    Enter Montague.
    O summer's day, see where my cousin comes!
    265Montague
    How fares my aunt? We are not Scots,
    Why do you shut your gates against your friends?
    Countess
    Well may I give a welcome, cousin, to thee,
    For thou com'st well to chase my foes from hence.
    Montague
    The King himself is come in person hither;
    270Dear aunt, descend and gratulate his highness.
    Countess
    How may I entertain his majesty,
    To show my duty and his dignity?
    [Exit Countess, from above.]
    Enter King Edward, Warwick, Artois, with others.
    King Edward
    What, are the stealing foxes fled and gone
    275Before we could uncouple at their heels?
    Warwick
    They are, my liege, but with a cheerful cry
    Hot hounds and hardy chase them at the heels.
    Enter Countess [below].
    King Edward
    This is the Countess, Warwick, is it not?
    280Warwick
    Even she, my liege, whose beauty tyrants' fear,
    As a May blossom with pernicious winds,
    Hath sullied, withered, overcast and done.
    King Edward
    Hath she been fairer, Warwick, than she is?
    Warwick
    My gracious king, fair is she not at all,
    285If that her self were by to stain herself,
    As I have seen her when she was her self.
    King Edward
    What strange enchantment lurked in those her eyes
    When they excelled this excellence they have,
    That now her dim decline hath power to draw
    290My subject eyes from piercing majesty
    To gaze on her with doting admiration?
    Countess
    In duty lower than the ground I kneel,
    And for my dull knees bow my feeling heart
    To witness my obedience to your highness
    295With many millions of a subject's thanks,
    For this your royal presence, whose approach
    Hath driven war and danger from my gate.
    King Edward
    Lady, stand up, I come to bring thee peace,
    However thereby I have purchased war.
    300Countess
    No war to you, my liege; the Scots are gone,
    And gallop home toward Scotland with their hate.
    King Edward
    [Aside(?)] Lest yielding here I pine in shameful love --
    [To them] Come we'll pursue the Scots. Artois, away.
    Countess
    A little while my gracious sovereign stay,
    305And let the power of a mighty king
    Honor our roof; my husband in the wars,
    When he shall hear it, will triumph for joy.
    Then, dear my liege, now niggard not thy state,
    Being at the wall, enter our homely gate.
    310King Edward
    Pardon me, Countess, I will come no near,
    I dreamed tonight of treason and I fear.
    Countess
    Far from this place let ugly treason lie.
    King Edward
    [Aside] No farther off than her conspiring eye,
    Which shoots infected poison in my heart
    315Beyond repulse of wit or cure of art;
    Now in the sun alone it doth not lie
    With light to take light from a mortal eye,
    For here two day-stars that mine eyes would see
    More than the sun steals mine own light from me;
    320Contemplative desire, desire to be
    In contemplation that may master thee. --
    [To them] Warwick, Artois, to horse and let's away.
    Countess
    What might I speak to make my sovereign stay?
    King Edward
    [Aside] What needs a tongue to such a speaking eye
    325That more persuades then winning oratory?
    Countess
    Let not thy presence, like the April sun,
    Flatter our earth and suddenly be done;
    More happy do not make our outward wall
    Than thou wilt grace our inner house withal.
    330Our house, my liege, is like a country swain
    Whose habit rude and manners blunt and plain
    Presageth nought, yet inly beautified
    With bounty's riches and fair hidden pride:
    For where the golden ore doth buried lie,
    335The ground undecked with nature's tapestry
    Seems barren, sere, unfertile, fruitless, dry;
    And where the upper turf of earth doth boast
    His pride, perfumes, and particolored cost,
    Delve there, and find this issue and their pride
    340To spring from ordure and corruption's side.
    But to make up my all too long compare,
    These ragged walls no testimony are
    What is within, but like a cloak doth hide
    From weather's waste the under-garnished pride;
    345More gracious than my terms can let thee be,
    Entreat thyself to stay a while with me.
    King Edward
    As wise as fair -- what fond fit can be heard
    When wisdom keeps the gate as beauty's guard. -
    Countess, albeit my business urgeth me,
    350It shall attend while I attend on thee.
    Come on, my lords, here will I host tonight.
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 3]
    [Enter Lodowick.]
    Lodowick
    I might perceive his eye in her eye lost,
    His ear to drink her sweet tongue's utterance,
    And changing passions, like inconstant clouds
    355That rack upon the carriage of the winds,
    Increase and die in his disturbèd cheeks.
    Lo, when she blushed, even then did he look pale,
    As if her cheeks by some enchanted power
    Attracted had the cherry blood from his;
    360Anon, with reverent fear when she grew pale,
    His cheeks put on their scarlet ornaments,
    But no more like her oriental red
    Than brick to coral, or live things to dead.
    Why did he then thus counterfeit her looks?
    365If she did blush, 'twas tender modest shame,
    Being in the sacred presence of a king;
    If he did blush, 'twas red immodest shame
    To vail his eyes amiss being a king;
    If she looked pale, 'twas silly woman's fear
    370To bear herself in presence of a king;
    If he looked pale, it was with guilty fear
    To dote amiss being a mighty king.
    Then Scottish wars, farewell; I fear 'twill prove
    A ling'ring English siege of peevish love.
    375Here comes his highness walking all alone.
    Enter King Edward.
    King Edward
    She is grown more fairer far since I came hither,
    Her voice more silver every word than other,
    Her wit more fluent; what a strange discourse
    380Unfolded she of David and his Scots!
    'Even thus,' quoth she, 'he spake' -- and then spoke broad,
    With epithets and accents of the Scot,
    But somewhat better than the Scot could speak;
    'And thus quoth she' -- and answered then herself,
    385For who could speak like her? But she herself
    Breathes from the wall an angel's note from heaven
    Of sweet defiance to her barbarous foes.
    When she would talk of peace methinks her tongue
    Commanded war to prison; when of war,
    390It wakened Caesar from his Roman grave
    To hear war beautified by her discourse.
    Wisdom is foolishness but in her tongue,
    Beauty a slander but in her fair face,
    There is no summer but in her cheerful looks,
    395Nor frosty winter but in her disdain.
    I cannot blame the Scots that did besiege her
    For she is all the treasure of our land;
    But call them cowards that they ran away,
    Having so rich and fair a cause to stay. --
    400Art thou there, Lod'wick? Give me ink and paper.
    Lodowick
    I will, my liege.
    King Edward
    And bid the lords hold on their play at chess
    For we will walk and meditate alone.
    Lodowick
    I will, my sovereign.
    Exit [Lodowick].
    405King Edward
    This fellow is well read in poetry,
    And hath a lusty and persuasive spirit;
    I will acquaint him with my passion,
    Which he shall shadow with a veil of lawn
    Through which the queen of beauty's queen shall see
    410Herself the ground of my infirmity.
    Enter Lodowick.
    Hast thou pen, ink and paper ready, Lodowick?
    Lodowick
    Ready, my liege.
    King Edward
    Then in the summer arbor sit by me,
    415Make it our council house or cabinet;
    Since green our thoughts, green be the conventicle
    Where we will ease us by disburd'ning them.
    Now, Lod'wick, invocate some golden muse
    To bring thee hither an enchanted pen
    420That may for sighs set down true sighs indeed;
    Talking of grief, to make thee ready groan,
    And when thou writ'st of tears, encouch the word
    Before and after with such sweet laments
    That it may raise drops in a Tartar's eye,
    425And make a flint-heart Scythian pitiful --
    For so much moving hath a poet's pen.
    Then if thou be a poet, move thou so,
    And be enrichèd by thy sovereign's love;
    For if the touch of sweet concordant strings
    430Could force attendance in the ears of hell,
    How much more shall the strains of poets' wit
    Beguile and ravish soft and humane minds?
    Lodowick
    To whom, my lord, shall I direct my style?
    King Edward
    To one that shames the fair and sots the wise;
    435Whose body is an abstract or a brief,
    Contains each general virtue in the world.
    Better than beautiful thou must begin,
    Devise for fair a fairer word than fair,
    And every ornament that thou wouldst praise
    440Fly it a pitch above the soar of praise.
    For flattery fear thou not to be convicted,
    For were thy admiration ten times more,
    Ten times ten thousand more the worth exceeds
    Of that thou art to praise thy praise's worth.
    445Begin -- I will to contemplate the while.
    Forget not to set down how passionate,
    How heart-sick and how full of languishment
    Her beauty makes me.
    Lodowick
    Write I to a woman?
    450King Edward
    What beauty else could triumph on me,
    Or who but women do our love-lays greet?
    What, thinkst thou I did bid thee praise a horse?
    Lodowick
    Of what condition or estate she is
    'Twere requisite that I should know, my lord.
    455King Edward
    Of such estate, that hers is as a throne,
    And my estate the footstool where she treads;
    Then mayst thou judge what her condition is
    By the proportion of her mightiness.
    Write on, while I peruse her in my thoughts. --
    460Her voice to music or the nightingale?
    To music every summer-leaping swain
    Compares his sunburnt lover when she speaks;
    And why should I speak of the nightingale?
    The nightingale sings of adulterate wrong,
    465And that, compared, is too satirical,
    For sin, though sin, would not be so esteemed,
    But rather virtue sin, sin virtue deemed.
    Her hair far softer than the silkworm's twist,
    Like to a flattering glass doth make more fair
    470The yellow amber -- 'like a flattering glass'
    Comes in too soon; for writing of her eyes,
    I'll say that like a glass they catch the sun,
    And thence the hot reflection doth rebound
    Against my breast and burns my heart within.
    475Ah, what a world of descant makes my soul
    Upon this voluntary ground of love!
    Come, Lod'wick, hast thou turned thy ink to gold?
    If not, write but in letters capital
    My mistress' name and it will gild thy paper;
    Read, lord, read,
    480Fill thou the empty hollows of mine ears
    With the sweet hearing of thy poetry.
    Lodowick
    I have not to a period brought her praise.
    King Edward
    Her praise is as my love, both infinite,
    Which apprehend such violent extremes
    485That they disdain an ending period.
    Her beauty hath no match but my affection,
    Hers more than most, mine most, and more than more,
    Hers more to praise than tell the sea by drops,
    Nay, more than drop, the massy earth by sands,
    490And sand by sand, print them in memory;
    Then wherefore talkst thou of a period
    To that which craves unended admiration?
    Read, let us hear.
    Lodowick
    'More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades' --
    495King Edward
    That line hath two faults, gross and palpable:
    Compar'st thou her to the pale queen of night,
    Who being set in dark seems therefore light?
    What is she, when the sun lifts up his head,
    But like a fading taper, dim and dead?
    500My love shall brave the eye of heaven at noon,
    And, being unmasked, outshine the golden sun.
    Lodowick
    What is the other fault, my sovereign lord?
    King Edward
    Read o'er the line again.
    Lodowick
    'More fair and chaste' --
    505King Edward
    I did not bid thee talk of chastity
    To ransack so the treasure of her mind,
    For I had rather have her chased than chaste.
    Out with the moon line, I will none of it,
    And let me have her likened to the sun:
    510Say she hath thrice more splendor than the sun,
    That her perfections emulates the sun,
    That she breeds sweets as plenteous as the sun,
    That she doth thaw cold winter like the sun,
    That she doth cheer fresh summer like the sun,
    515That she doth dazzle gazers like the sun,
    And in this application to the sun
    Bid her be free and general as the sun,
    Who smiles upon the basest weed that grows
    As lovingly as on the fragrant rose.
    520Let's see what follows that same moonlight line.
    Lodowick
    'More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades,
    More bold in constancy' --
    King Edward
    In constancy than who?
    Lodowick
    'Than Judith was.'
    525King Edward
    Oh, monstrous line! Put in the next a sword
    And I shall woo her to cut off my head!
    Blot, blot, good Lod'wick; let us hear the next.
    Lodowick
    There's all that yet is done.
    King Edward
    I thank thee then thou hast done little ill,
    530But what is done is passing passing ill.
    No, let the captain talk of boist'rous war,
    The prisoner of immurèd dark constraint,
    The sick man best sets down the pangs of death,
    The man that starves the sweetness of a feast,
    535The frozen soul the benefit of fire,
    And every grief his happy opposite;
    Love cannot sound well but in lovers' tongues.
    Give me the pen and paper, I will write.
    Enter Countess.
    540But soft, here comes the treasurer of my spirit --
    Lod'wick, thou knowst not how to draw a battle:
    These wings, these flankers, and these squadrons
    Argue in thee defective discipline;
    Thou shouldst have placed this here, this other here.
    545Countess
    Pardon my boldness, my thrice gracious lords,
    Let my intrusion here be called my duty
    That comes to see my sovereign how he fares.
    King Edward
    Go, draw the same, I tell thee in what form.
    Lodowick
    I go.
    Exit [Lodowick].
    550Countess
    Sorry I am to see my liege so sad;
    What may thy subject do to drive from thee
    Thy gloomy consort, sullen melancholy?
    King Edward
    Ah, lady, I am blunt and cannot strew
    The flowers of solace in a ground of shame;
    555Since I came hither, Countess, I am wronged.
    Countess
    Now God forbid that any in my house
    Should think my sovereign wrong! Thrice gentle king,
    Acquaint me with your cause of discontent.
    King Edward
    How near then shall I be to remedy?
    560Countess
    As near, my liege, as all my woman's power
    Can pawn itself to buy thy remedy.
    King Edward
    If thou speakst true, then have I my redress;
    Engage thy power to redeem my joys,
    And I am joyful, Countess, else I die.
    565Countess
    I will, my liege.
    King Edward
    Swear, Countess, that thou wilt.
    Countess
    By heaven, I will.
    King Edward
    Then take thyself a little way aside,
    And tell thyself a king doth dote on thee,
    570Say that within thy power doth lie
    To make him happy, and that thou hast sworn
    To give him all the joy within thy power;
    Do this and tell me when I shall be happy.
    Countess
    All this is done, my thrice dread sovereign:
    575That power of love that I have power to give
    Thou hast with all devout obedience;
    Employ me how thou wilt in proof thereof.
    King Edward
    Thou hearst me say that I do dote on thee.
    Countess
    If on my beauty, take it if thou canst;
    580Though little, I do prize it ten times less.
    If on my virtue, take it if thou canst;
    For virtue's store by giving doth augment.
    Be it on what it will that I can give,
    And thou canst take away, inherit it.
    585King Edward
    It is thy beauty that I would enjoy.
    Countess
    Oh, were it painted I would wipe it off
    And dispossess myself to give it thee;
    But sovereign, it is soldered to my life,
    Take one and both, for like an humble shadow
    590It haunts the sunshine of my summer's life.
    King Edward
    But thou mayst leave it me to sport withal.
    Countess
    As easy may my intellectual soul
    Be lent away and yet my body live,
    As lend my body, palace to my soul,
    595Away from her and yet retain my soul.
    My body is her bower, her court, her abbey,
    And she an angel pure, divine, unspotted;
    If I should leave her house, my lord, to thee,
    I kill my poor soul and my poor soul me.
    600King Edward
    Didst thou not swear to give me what I would?
    Countess
    I did, my liege, so what you would, I could.
    King Edward
    I wish no more of thee than thou mayst give,
    Nor beg I do not but I rather buy --
    That is, thy love, and for that love of thine
    605In rich exchange I tender to thee mine.
    Countess
    But that your lips were sacred, my lord,
    You would prophane the holy name of love;
    That love you offer me you cannot give,
    For Caesar owes that tribute to his queen;
    610That love you beg of me I cannot give,
    For Sarah owes that duty to her lord.
    He that doth clip or counterfeit your stamp
    Shall die, my lord; and will your sacred self
    Commit high treason against the king of heaven
    615To stamp his image in forbidden metal,
    Forgetting your allegiance and your oath?
    In violating marriage sacred law
    You break a greater honor than yourself;
    To be a king is of a younger house
    620Than to be married; your progenitor,
    Sole reigning Adam on the universe,
    By God was honored for a married man,
    But not by him anointed for a king.
    It is a penalty to break your statutes,
    625Though not enacted with your highness' hand;
    How much more to infringe the holy act
    Made by the mouth of God, sealed with His hand?
    I know my sovereign in my husband's love,
    Who now doth loyal service in his wars,
    630Doth but to try the wife of Salisbury,
    Whether she will hear a wanton's tale or no;
    Lest being therein guilty by my stay,
    From that, not from my liege, I turn away.
    Exit [Countess].
    King Edward
    Whether is her beauty by her words divine,
    635Or are her words sweet chaplains to her beauty?
    Like as the wind doth beautify a sail,
    And as a sail becomes the unseen wind,
    So do her words her beauty, beauty words.
    Oh, that I were a honey-gathering bee
    640To bear the comb of virtue from this flower,
    And not a poison-sucking envious spider
    To turn the juice I take to deadly venom.
    Religion is austere and beauty gentle,
    Too strict a guardian for so fair a ward.
    645Oh, that she were as is the air to me!
    Why so she is, for when I would embrace her,
    This do I, and catch nothing but myself;
    I must enjoy her, for I cannot beat
    With reason and reproof fond love away.
    650Enter Warwick.
    Here comes her father; I will work with him
    To bear my colors in this field of love.
    Warwick
    How is it that my sovereign is so sad?
    May I with pardon know your highness' grief?
    655And that my old endeavor will remove it,
    It shall not cumber long your majesty.
    King Edward
    A kind and voluntary gift thou profferest,
    That I was forward to have begged of thee.
    But, O thou world, great nurse of flattery,
    660Why dost thou tip men's tongues with golden words
    And peise their deeds with weight of heavy lead,
    That fair performance cannot follow promise?
    Oh, that a man might hold the heart's close book,
    And choke the lavish tongue when it doth utter
    665The breath of falsehood not charactered there!
    Warwick
    Far be it from the honor of my age
    That I should owe bright gold and render lead;
    Age is a cynic, not a flatterer.
    I say again, that if I knew your grief
    670And that by me it may be lessenèd,
    My proper harm should buy your highness' good.
    King Edward
    These are the vulgar tenders of false men
    That never pay the duty of their words.
    Thou wilt not stick to swear what thou hast said,
    675But when thou knowest my grief's condition,
    This rash disgorgèd vomit of thy word
    Thou wilt eat up again and leave me helpless.
    Warwick
    By heaven, I will not, though your majesty
    Did bid me run upon your sword and die.
    680King Edward
    Say that my grief is no way medicinable
    But by the loss and bruising of thine honor.
    Warwick
    If nothing but that loss may vantage you,
    I would account that loss my vantage too.
    King Edward
    Thinkst that thou canst answer thy oath again?
    685Warwick
    I cannot, nor I would not if I could.
    King Edward
    But if thou dost, what shall I say to thee?
    Warwick
    What may be said to any perjured villain
    That breaks the sacred warrant of an oath.
    King Edward
    What wilt thou say to one that breaks an oath?
    690Warwick
    That he hath broke his faith with God and man,
    And from them both stands excommunicate.
    King Edward
    What office were it to suggest a man
    To break a lawful and religious vow?
    Warwick
    An office for the devil not for man.
    695King Edward
    That devil's office must thou do for me,
    Or break thy oath or cancel all the bonds
    Of love and duty 'twixt thyself and me.
    And therefore, Warwick, if thou art thyself,
    The lord and master of thy word and oath,
    700Go to thy daughter and in my behalf
    Command her, woo her, win her any ways
    To be my mistress and my secret love.
    I will not stand to hear thee make reply --
    Thy oath break hers or let thy sovereign die.
    Exit [King Edward.]
    705Warwick
    O doting king, O detestable office!
    Well may I tempt myself to wrong myself
    When he hath sworn me by the name of God
    To break a vow made by the name of God.
    What if I swear by this right hand of mine
    710To cut this right hand off? The better way
    Were to prophane the idol than confound it.
    But neither will I do; I'll keep mine oath,
    And to my daughter make a recantation
    Of all the virtue I have preached to her.
    715I'll say she must forget her husband Salisbury,
    If she remember to embrace the King;
    I'll say an oath may easily be broken,
    But not so easily pardoned being broken;
    I'll say it is true charity to love,
    720But not true love to be so charitable;
    I'll say his greatness may bear out the shame,
    But not his kingdom can buy out the sin;
    I'll say it is my duty to persuade,
    But not her honesty to give consent.
    725Enter Countess.
    See where she comes; was never father had,
    Against his child, an embassage so bad.
    Countess
    My lord and father, I have sought for you;
    My mother and the peers importune you
    730To keep in presence of his majesty,
    And do your best to make his highness merry.
    Warwick
    [Aside] How shall I enter in this graceless errand?
    I must not call her child, for where's the father
    That will in such a suit seduce his child?
    735Then 'wife of Salisbury,' shall I so begin?
    No, he's my friend, and where is found the friend
    That will do friendship such endamagement? --
    [To Countess] Neither my daughter, nor my dear friend's wife,
    I am not Warwick as thou thinkst I am,
    740But an attorney from the court of hell,
    That thus have housed my spirit in his form
    To do a message to thee from the King:
    The mighty King of England dotes on thee.
    He that hath power to take away thy life,
    745Hath power to take thine honor, then consent
    To pawn thine honor rather than thy life;
    Honor is often lost and got again,
    But life once gone hath no recovery.
    The sun that withers hay doth nourish grass;
    750The King that would distain thee, will advance thee.
    The poets write that great Achilles' spear
    Could heal the wound it made: the moral is,
    What mighty men misdo, they can amend.
    The lion doth become his bloody jaws,
    755And grace his foragement by being mild
    When vassal fear lies trembling at his feet;
    The King will in his glory hide thy shame,
    And those that gaze on him to find out thee
    Will lose their eyesight looking in the sun.
    760What can one drop of poison harm the sea,
    Whose hugy vastures can digest the ill
    And make it lose his operation?
    The King's great name will temper thy misdeeds,
    And give the bitter potion of reproach
    765A sugared, sweet, and most delicious taste.
    Besides it is no harm to do the thing
    Which without shame could not be left undone.
    Thus have I, in his majesty's behalf,
    Apparelled sin in virtuous sentences,
    770And dwell upon thy answer in his suit.
    Countess
    Unnatural besiege! Woe me unhappy
    To have escaped the danger of my foes
    And to be ten times worse envired by friends!
    Hath he no means to stain my honest blood,
    775But to corrupt the author of my blood
    To be his scandalous and vile solicitor?
    No marvel though the branches be then infected,
    When poison hath encompassèd the root;
    No marvel though the leprous infant die,
    780When the stern dame envenometh the dug.
    Why then give sin a passport to offend
    And youth the dangerous reign of liberty;
    Blot out the strict forbidding of the law,
    And cancel every canon that prescribes
    785A shame for shame, or penance for offence.
    No, let me die, if his too boist'rous will
    Will have it so, before I will consent
    To be an actor in his graceless lust.
    Warwick
    Why now thou speakst as I would have thee speak,
    790And mark how I unsay my words again:
    An honorable grave is more esteemed
    Than the polluted closet of a king.
    The greater man, the greater is the thing,
    Be it good or bad, that he shall undertake:
    795An unreputed mote, flying in the sun,
    Presents a greater substance than it is;
    The freshest summer's day doth soonest taint
    The loathèd carrion that it seems to kiss;
    Deep are the blows made with a mighty axe;
    800That sin doth ten times aggravate itself
    That is committed in a holy place;
    An evil deed done by authority
    Is sin and subornation; deck an ape
    In tissue, and the beauty of the robe
    805Adds but the greater scorn unto the beast.
    A spacious field of reasons could I urge
    Between his glory, daughter, and thy shame:
    That poison shows worst in a golden cup,
    Dark night seems darker by the lightning flash,
    810Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds,
    And every glory that inclines to sin
    The shame is treble, by the opposite.
    So leave I with my blessing in thy bosom,
    Which then convert to a most heavy curse
    815When thou convertst from honor's golden name
    To the black faction of bed-blotting shame.
    Countess
    I'll follow thee, and when my mind turns so,
    My body sink my soul in endless woe.
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 4]
    Enter at one door Derby from France, at another door 820Audley with a drum.
    Derby
    Thrice noble Audley, well encountered here.
    How is it with our sovereign and his peers?
    Audley
    'Tis full a fortnight since I saw his highness,
    What time he sent me forth to muster men,
    825Which I accordingly have done and bring them hither
    In fair array before his majesty.
    What news, my lord of Derby, from the emperor?
    Derby
    As good as we desire: the emperor
    Hath yielded to his highness' friendly aid,
    830And makes our king lieutenant-general
    In all his lands and large dominions.
    Then via for the spacious bounds of France!
    Audley
    What, doth his highness leap to hear this news?
    Derby
    I have not yet found time to open them.
    835The King is in his closet malcontent,
    For what, I know not, but he gave in charge
    Till after dinner none should interrupt him.
    The Countess Salisbury and her father Warwick,
    Artois, and all, look underneath the brows.
    840Audley
    Undoubtedly then something is amiss.
    [Trumpets sound within.]
    Derby
    The trumpets sound -- the King is now abroad.
    Enter the King.
    Audley
    Here comes his highness.
    Derby
    Befall my sovereign all my sovereign's wish.
    845King Edward
    Ah, that thou wert a witch to make it so.
    Derby
    The emperor greeteth you.
    King Edward
    Would it were the Countess.
    Derby
    And hath accorded to your highness' suit.
    King Edward
    Thou liest, she hath not, but I would she had.
    850Audley
    All love and duty to my lord the king.
    King Edward
    Well, all but one is none -- what news with you?
    Audley
    I have, my liege, levied those horse and foot
    According as your charge, and brought them hither.
    King Edward
    Then let those foot trudge hence upon those horse,
    855According to our discharge and be gone. --
    Derby, I'll look upon the Countess' mind anon.
    Derby
    The Countess' mind, my liege?
    King Edward
    I mean the emperor -- leave me alone.
    Audley
    What's in his mind?
    860Derby
    Let's leave him to his humor.
    Exeunt [Derby and Artois].
    King Edward
    Thus from the heart's abundance speaks the tongue:
    'Countess' for 'emperor', and indeed why not?
    She is as imperator over me, and I to her
    Am as a kneeling vassal that observes
    865The pleasure or displeasure of her eye.
    Enter Lodowick.
    What says the more than Cleopatra's match
    To Caesar now?
    Lodowick
    That yet my liege ere night,
    870She will resolve your majesty.
    [Drums within.]
    King Edward
    What drum is this that thunders forth this march
    To start the tender Cupid in my bosom?
    Poor sheepskin, how it brawls with him that beateth it.
    Go break the thund'ring parchment bottom out,
    875And I will teach it to conduct sweet lines
    Unto the bosom of a heavenly nymph,
    For I will use it as my writing paper,
    And so reduce him from a scolding drum
    To be the herald and dear counsel-bearer
    880Betwixt a goddess and a mighty king.
    Go bid the drummer learn to touch the lute
    Or hang him in the braces of his drum,
    For now we think it an uncivil thing
    To trouble heaven with such harsh resounds. Away. --
    Exit Lodowick.
    885The quarrel that I have requires no arms
    But these of mine, and these shall meet my foe
    In a deep march of penetrable groans;
    My eyes shall be my arrows, and my sighs
    Shall serve me as the vantage of the wind
    890To whirl away my sweetest artillery.
    Ah, but alas, she wins the sun of me,
    For that is she herself, and thence it comes
    That poets' term the wanton warrior blind.
    But love hath eyes as judgement to his steps,
    895Till too much lovèd glory dazzles them. --
    How now?
    Enter Lodowick.
    Lodowick
    My liege, the drum that stroke the lusty march
    Stands with Prince Edward, your thrice valiant son.
    [Exit Lodowick.]
    900Enter Prince Edward.
    King Edward
    [Aside] I see the boy. Oh, how his mother's face
    Modelled in his, corrects my strayed desire,
    And rates my heart and chides my thievish eye,
    Who being rich enough in seeing her
    905Yet seeks elsewhere, and basest theft is that
    Which cannot cloak itself on poverty.
    [To Prince Edward] Now boy, what news?
    Prince
    I have assembled, my dear lord and father,
    The choicest buds of all our English blood
    910For our affairs to France, and here we come
    To take direction from your majesty.
    King Edward
    [Aside] Still do I see in him delineate
    His mother's visage; those his eyes are hers,
    Who looking wistly on me make me blush
    915For faults against themselves give evidence;
    Lust is a fire, and men like lanthorns show
    Light lust within themselves, even through themselves.
    Away loose silks of wavering vanity!
    Shall the large limit of fair Brittany
    920By me be overthrown, and shall I not
    Master this little mansion of myself?
    Give me an armor of eternal steel,
    I go to conquer kings, and shall I not then
    Subdue myself and be my enemies' friend?
    925It must not be. [To Prince Edward] Come boy, forward, advance.
    Let's with our colors sweet the air of France.
    Enter Lodowick.
    Lodowick
    My liege, the Countess, with a smiling cheer
    Desires access unto your majesty.
    930King Edward
    [Aside] Why there it goes; that very smile of hers
    Hath ransomed captive France and set the King,
    The Dauphin and the peers at liberty. --
    [To Prince Edward] Go, leave me Ned, and revel with thy friends.
    Exit Prince Edward.
    Thy mother is but black, and thou like her
    935Dost put it in my mind how foul she is. --
    Go fetch the Countess hither in thy hand,
    Exit Lodowick.
    And let her chase away these winter clouds,
    For she gives beauty both to heaven and earth.
    The sin is more to hack and hew poor men
    940Than to embrace in an unlawful bed
    The register of all rarities
    Since leathern Adam till this youngest hour.
    Enter [Lodowick with the] Countess.
    Go Lod'wick, put thy hand into thy purse,
    945Play, spend, give, riot, waste, do what thou wilt,
    So thou wilt hence a while and leave me here.
    [Exit Lodowick.]
    Now, my soul's playfellow, art thou come
    To speak the more than heavenly word of 'yea'
    To my objection in thy beauteous love?
    950Countess
    My father on his blessing hath commanded --
    King Edward
    That thou shalt yield to me.
    Countess
    Ay, dear my liege, your due.
    King Edward
    And that, my dearest love, can be no less
    Than right for right, and render love for love.
    955Countess
    Than wrong for wrong, and endless hate for hate.
    But sith I see your majesty so bent,
    That my unwillingness, my husband's love,
    Your high estate, nor no respect respected
    Can be my help, but that your mightiness
    960Will overbear and awe these dear regards,
    I bind my discontent to my content,
    And what I would not, I'll compel I will,
    Provided that yourself remove those lets
    That stand between your highness' love and mine.
    965King Edward
    Name them, fair Countess, and by heaven, I will.
    Countess
    It is their lives that stand between our love
    That I would have choked up, my sovereign.
    King Edward
    Whose lives, my lady?
    Countess
    My thrice loving liege,
    970Your queen, and Salisbury, my wedded husband,
    Who living have that title in our love
    That we cannot bestow but by their death.
    King Edward
    Thy opposition is beyond our law.
    Countess
    So is your desire. If the law
    975Can hinder you to execute the one,
    Let it forbid you to attempt the other.
    I cannot think you love me as you say
    Unless you do make good what you have sworn.
    King Edward
    No more: thy husband and the queen shall die.
    980Fairer thou art by far than Hero was,
    Beardless Leander not so strong as I;
    He swum an easy current for his love,
    But I will through a Hellespont of blood
    To arrive at Sestos where my Hero lies.
    985Countess
    Nay, you'll do more, you'll make the river too
    With their heart bloods that keep our love asunder,
    Of which my husband and your wife are twain.
    King Edward
    Thy beauty makes them guilty of their death,
    And gives in evidence that they shall die,
    990Upon which verdict I, their judge, condemn them.
    Countess
    O perjured beauty, more corrupted judge!
    When to the great Star Chamber o'er our heads
    The universal sessions calls to 'count
    This packing evil, we both shall tremble for it.
    995King Edward
    What says my fair love? Is she resolute?
    Countess
    Resolute to be dissolved, and therefore this:
    Keep but thy word, great king, and I am thine.
    Stand where thou dost, I'll part a little from thee,
    And see how I will yield me to thy hands.
    1000Here by my side doth hang my wedding knives:
    Take thou the one, and with it kill thy queen,
    And learn by me to find her where she lies;
    And with this other, I'll dispatch my love,
    Which now lies fast asleep within my heart;
    1005When they are gone, then I'll consent to love.
    Stir not, lascivious king, to hinder me.
    My resolution is more nimbler far
    Than thy prevention can be in my rescue,
    And if thou stir, I strike; therefore stand still,
    1010And hear the choice that I will put thee to:
    Either swear to leave thy most unholy suit
    And never henceforth to solicit me,
    Or else, by heaven, this sharp-pointed knife
    Shall stain thy earth with that which thou wouldst stain,
    1015My poor chaste blood. Swear, Edward, swear,
    Or I will strike and die before thee here.
    King Edward
    Even by that power I swear, that gives me now
    The power to be ashamèd of myself;
    I never mean to part my lips again
    1020In any words that tends to such a suit.
    Arise, true English lady, whom our isle
    May better boast of than ever Roman might
    Of her whose ransacked treasury hath tasked
    The vain endeavor of so many pens.
    1025Arise and be my fault thy honor's fame,
    Which after ages shall enrich thee with.
    I am awakèd from this idle dream. --
    Warwick, my son, Derby, Artois and Audley,
    Brave warriors all, where are you all this while?
    1030Enter all.
    Warwick, I make thee Warden of the North;
    Thou, Prince of Wales, and Audley, straight to sea,
    Scour to Newhaven -- some there stay for me.
    Myself, Artois and Derby will through Flanders
    1035To greet our friends there and to crave their aid.
    This night will scarce suffice me to discover
    My folly's siege against a faithful lover,
    For ere the sun shall gild the eastern sky
    We'll wake him with our martial harmony.
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 5]
    1040Enter King John of France, his two sons, Charles [Duke] of Normandy and Philip, and the Duke of Lorraine.
    King John
    1045Here, till our navy of a thousand sail
    Have made a breakfast to our foe by sea,
    Let us encamp to wait their happy speed.
    Lorraine, what readiness is Edward in?
    How hast thou heard that he provided is
    1050Of martial furniture for this exploit?
    Lorraine
    To lay aside unnecessary soothing,
    And not to spend the time in circumstance,
    'Tis bruited for a certainty, my lord,
    That he's exceeding strongly fortified;
    1055His subjects flock as willingly to war
    As if unto a triumph they were led.
    Charles
    England was wont to harbor malcontents,
    Bloodthirsty and seditious Catilines,
    Spendthrifts, and such as gape for nothing else
    1060But changing and alteration of the state.
    And is it possible that they are now
    So loyal in themselves?
    Lorraine
    All but the Scot, who solemnly protests,
    As heretofore I have informed his grace,
    1065Never to sheathe his sword or take a truce.
    King John
    Ah, that's the anch'rage of some better hope.
    But, on the other side, to think what friends
    King Edward hath retained in Netherland
    Among those ever-bibbing epicures --
    1070Those frothy Dutchmen puffed with double beer,
    That drink and swill in every place they come --
    Doth not a little aggravate mine ire;
    Besides we hear the emperor conjoins
    And stalls him in his own authority.
    1075But all the mightier that their number is,
    The greater glory reaps the victory.
    Some friends have we beside domestic power:
    The stern Polonian, and the warlike Dane,
    The King of Bohemia, and of Sicily
    1080Are all become confederates with us,
    And, as I think, are marching hither apace.
    [Drums within.]
    But soft, I hear the music of their drums,
    By which I guess that their approach is near.
    Enter the King of Bohemia with1085 Danes, and a Polonian Captain with other soldiers another way.
    Bohemia
    King John of France, as league and neighborhood
    Requires when friends are any way distressed,
    1090I come to aid thee with my country's force.
    Polonian Captain
    And from great Moscow, fearful to the Turk,
    And lofty Poland, nurse of hardy men,
    I bring these servitors to fight for thee,
    Who willingly will venture in thy cause.
    1095King John
    Welcome Bohemian King, and welcome all.
    This your great kindness I will not forget;
    Besides your plentiful rewards in crowns
    That from our treasury ye shall receive,
    There comes a hare-brained nation decked in pride,
    1100The spoil of whom will be a treble gain.
    And now my hope is full, my joy complete.
    At sea we are as puissant as the force
    Of Agamemnon in the haven of Troy;
    By land, with Xerxes we compare of strength,
    1105Whose soldiers drank up rivers in their thirst.
    Then Bayard-like, blind, overweening Ned,
    To reach at our imperial diadem
    Is either to be swallowed of the waves
    Or hacked a-pieces when thou com'st ashore.
    1110Enter Mariner.
    Mariner
    Near to the coast I have descried, my lord,
    As I was busy in my watchful charge,
    The proud armada of King Edward's ships,
    Which, at the first far off when I did ken,
    1115Seemed as it were a grove of withered pines.
    But, drawing near, their glorious bright aspect,
    Their streaming ensigns wrought of colored silk,
    Like to a meadow full of sundry flowers
    Adorns the naked bosom of the earth;
    1120Majestical the order of their course,
    Figuring the hornèd circle of the moon;
    And on the top gallant of the admiral,
    And likewise all the handmaids of his train,
    The arms of England and of France unite
    1125Are quartered equally by herald's art.
    Thus titely carried with a merry gale,
    They plough the ocean hitherward amain.
    King John
    Dare he already crop the fleur-de-lis?
    I hope the honey being gathered thence,
    1130He with the spider afterward approached,
    Shall suck forth deadly venom from the leaves.
    But where's our navy? How are they prepared
    To wing themselves against this flight of ravens?
    Mariner
    They, having knowledge brought them by the scouts,
    1135Did break from anchor straight and, puffed with rage
    No otherwise than were their sails with wind,
    Made forth, as when the empty eagle flies
    To satisfy his hungry griping maw.
    King John
    There's for thy news, return unto thy bark;
    1140And if thou scape the bloody stroke of war
    And do survive the conflict, come again,
    And let us hear the manner of the fight.
    Exit Mariner.
    Mean space, my lords, 'tis best we be dispersed
    To several places lest they chance to land.
    1145First you, my lord, with your Bohemian troops
    Shall pitch your battles on the lower hand;
    My eldest son, the Duke of Normandy,
    Together with this aid of Muscovites,
    Shall climb the higher ground another way;
    1150Here in the middle coast betwixt you both,
    Philip, my youngest boy, and I will lodge.
    So, lords, begone, and look unto your charge;
    You stand for France, an empire fair and large.
    Exeunt [all except King John and Philip].
    Now tell me, Philip, what is thy conceit
    1155Touching the challenge that the English make?
    Philip
    I say, my lord, claim Edward what he can,
    And bring he ne'er so plain a pedigree,
    'Tis you are in possession of the crown,
    And that's the surest point of all the law.
    1160But were it not, yet ere he should prevail,
    I'll make a conduit of my dearest blood
    Or chase those straggling upstarts home again.
    King John
    Well said, young Philip. Call for bread and wine,
    That we may cheer our stomachs with repast
    1165To look our foes more sternly in the face.
    The battle heard afar off.
    Now is begun the heavy day at sea.
    Fight, Frenchmen, fight; be like the field of bears
    When they defend their younglings in their caves.
    Steer, angry Nemesis, the happy helm
    1170That with the sulphur battles of your rage
    The English fleet may be dispersed and sunk.
    Shot [heard.]
    Philip
    O father, how this echoing cannon shot,
    Like sweet harmony, digests my cates.
    King John
    Now, boy, thou hearst what thund'ring terror 'tis
    1175To buckle for a kingdom's sovereignty.
    The earth with giddy trembling when it shakes,
    Or when the exhalations of the air
    Breaks in extremity of lightning flash,
    Affrights not more than kings when they dispose
    1180To show the rancor of their high-swoll'n hearts.
    Retreat.
    Retreat is sounded; one side hath the worse.
    Oh, if it be the French, sweet Fortune turn,
    And in thy turning change the froward winds,
    That with advantage of a favoring sky
    1185Our men may vanquish and th'other fly.
    Enter Mariner.
    My heart misgives -- say, mirror of pale death,
    To whom belongs the honor of this day?
    Relate, I pray thee, if thy breath will serve,
    1190The sad discourse of this discomfiture.
    Mariner
    I will, my lord.
    My gracious sovereign, France hath ta'en the foil,
    And boasting Edward triumphs with success.
    These iron-hearted navies,
    1195When last I was reporter to your grace,
    Both full of angry spleen, of hope and fear,
    Hasting to meet each other in the face,
    At last conjoined, and by their admiral,
    Our admiral encountered many shot.
    1200By this, the other, that beheld these twain
    Give earnest penny of a further wrack,
    Like fiery dragons took their haughty flight,
    And, likewise meeting, from their smoky wombs
    Sent many grim ambassadors of death.
    1205Then 'gan the day to turn to gloomy night,
    And darkness did as well enclose the quick
    As those that were but newly reft of life.
    No leisure served for friends to bid farewell,
    And if it had, the hideous noise was such
    1210As each to other seemèd deaf and dumb;
    Purple the sea, whose channel filled as fast
    With streaming gore that from the maimèd fell,
    As did her gushing moisture break into
    The crannied cleftures of the through-shot planks.
    1215Here flew a head dissevered from the trunk,
    There mangled arms and legs were tossed aloft,
    As when a whirlwind takes the summer dust
    And scatters it in middle of the air.
    Then might ye see the reeling vessels split,
    1220And tottering sink into the ruthless flood
    Until their lofty tops were seen no more.
    All shifts were tried both for defence and hurt,
    And now the effect of valor and of force,
    Of resolution and of cowardice,
    1225Were lively pictured; how the one for fame,
    The other by compulsion laid about.
    Much did the Nompareille, that brave ship,
    So did the black snake of Boulogne, than which
    A bonnier vessel never yet spread sail.
    1230But all in vain: both sun, the wind and tide
    Revolted all unto our foemen's side,
    That we perforce were fain to give them way,
    And they are landed. Thus my tale is done:
    We have untimely lost, and they have won.
    1235King John
    Then rests there nothing but with present speed
    To join our several forces all in one
    And bid them battle ere they range too far.
    Come, gentle Philip, let us hence depart,
    This soldier's words have pierced thy father's heart.
    Exeunt.
    [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.
    [Scene 7]
    Enter King Edward and the Earl of Derby, 1320with soldiers and Gobin de Grace.
    King Edward
    Where's the Frenchman by whose cunning guide
    We found the shallow of this River Somme,
    And had direction how to pass the sea?
    Gobin
    Here, my good lord.
    1325King Edward
    How art thou called? Tell me thy name.
    Gobin
    Gobin de Grace, if please your excellence.
    King Edward
    Then, Gobin, for the service thou hast done,
    We here enlarge and give thee liberty;
    And, for recompense beside this good,
    1330Thou shalt receive five hundred marks in gold. --
    I know not how we should have met our son,
    Whom now in heart I wish I might behold.
    Enter Artois.
    Artois
    Good news, my lord: the prince is hard at hand,
    1335And with him comes Lord Audley and the rest,
    Whom since our landing we could never meet.
    Enter Prince Edward, Lord Audley and soldiers.
    King Edward
    Welcome, fair prince; how hast thou sped, my son,
    Since thy arrival on the coast of France?
    1340Prince
    Successfully, I thank the gracious heavens.
    Some of their strongest cities we have won,
    As Barfleur, Lô, Crotoy and Carentan,
    And others wasted, leaving at our heels
    A wide apparent field and beaten path
    1345For solitariness to progress in.
    Yet those that would submit we kindly pardoned,
    For who in scorn refused our proffered peace
    Endured the penalty of sharp revenge.
    King Edward
    Ah France, why shouldst thou be this obstinate
    1350Against the kind embracement of thy friends?
    How gently had we thought to touch thy breast
    And set our foot upon thy tender mould,
    But that in froward and disdainful pride
    Thou, like a skittish and untamèd colt,
    1355Dost start aside and strike us with thy heels.
    But tell me Ned, in all thy warlike course,
    Hast thou not seen the usurping King of France?
    Prince
    Yes, my good lord, and not two hours ago,
    With full a hundred thousand fighting men
    1360Upon the one side of the river's bank,
    And on the other, both his multitudes.
    I feared he would have cropped our smaller power,
    But happily, perceiving your approach,
    He hath withdrawn himself to Crécy plains,
    1365Where, as it seemeth by his good array,
    He means to bid us battle presently.
    King Edward
    He shall be welcome -- that's the thing we crave.
    Enter King John, [Prince Charles] Duke of Normandy, Lorraine, King of Bohemia, young [Prince] Philip, and soldiers.
    1370King John
    Edward, know that John, the true King of France,
    Musing thou shouldst encroach upon his land
    And in thy tyrannous proceeding slay
    His faithful subjects and subvert his towns,
    Spits in thy face, and in this manner following
    1375Upbraids thee with thine arrogant intrusion.
    First, I condemn thee for a fugitive,
    A thievish pirate, and a needy mate --
    One that hath either no abiding place,
    Or else, inhabiting some barren soil
    1380Where neither herb or fruitful grain is had,
    Dost altogether live by pilfering.
    Next, insomuch thou hast infringed thy faith,
    Broke league and solemn covenant made with me,
    I hold thee for a false pernicious wretch.
    1385And last of all, although I scorn to cope
    With one so much inferior to myself,
    Yet in respect thy thirst is all for gold,
    Thy labor rather to be feared than loved,
    To satisfy thy lust in either part
    1390Here am I come, and with me have I brought
    Exceeding store of treasure, pearl and coin.
    Leave therefore now to persecute the weak,
    And armèd ent'ring conflict with the armed,
    Let it be seen 'mongst other petty thefts
    1395How thou canst win this pillage manfully.
    King Edward
    If gall or wormwood have a pleasant taste,
    Then is thy salutation honey-sweet;
    But as the one hath no such property,
    So is the other most satirical.
    1400Yet wot how I regard thy worthless taunts:
    If thou have uttered them to foil my fame
    Or dim the reputation of my birth,
    Know that thy wolvish barking cannot hurt;
    If slyly to insinuate with the world,
    1405And with a strumpet's artificial line
    To paint thy vicious and deformèd cause,
    Be well assured the counterfeit will fade,
    And in the end thy foul defects be seen.
    But if thou didst it to provoke me on,
    1410As who should say I were but timorous
    Or, coldly negligent, did need a spur,
    Bethink thyself how slack I was at sea.
    Now since my landing I have won no towns,
    Entered no further but upon the coast,
    1415And there have ever since securely slept;
    But if I have been otherwise employed,
    Imagine, Valois, whether I intend
    To skirmish not for pillage, but for the crown
    Which thou dost wear, and that I vow to have,
    1420Or one of us shall fall into his grave.
    Prince
    Look not for cross invectives at our hands
    Or railing execrations of despite.
    Let creeping serpents hid in hollow banks
    Sting with their tongues; we have remorseless swords,
    1425And they shall plead for us and our affairs.
    Yet, thus much briefly, by my father's leave:
    As all the immodest poison of thy throat
    Is scandalous and most notorious lies,
    And our pretended quarrel is truly just,
    1430So end the battle when we meet today --
    May either of us prosper and prevail,
    Or luckless cursed, receive eternal shame.
    King Edward
    That needs no further question, and I know
    His conscience witnesseth it is my right.
    1435Therefore Valois, say, wilt thou yet resign
    Before the sickle's thrust into the corn,
    Or that enkindled fury turn to flame?
    King John
    Edward, I know what right thou hast in France,
    And, ere I basely will resign my crown,
    1440This champion field shall be a pool of blood
    And all our prospect as a slaughterhouse.
    Prince
    Ay, that approves thee, tyrant, what thou art:
    No father, king, or shepherd of thy realm,
    But one that tears her entrails with thy hands,
    1445And like a thirsty tiger suckst her blood.
    Audley
    You peers of France, why do you follow him
    That is so prodigal to spend your lives?
    Charles
    Whom should they follow, agèd impotent,
    But he that is their true-born sovereign?
    1450King Edward
    Upbraidst thou him, because within his face
    Time hath engraved deep characters of age?
    Know that these grave scholars of experience,
    Like stiff-grown oaks, will stand immovable
    When whirlwind quickly turns up younger trees.
    1455Derby
    Was ever any of thy father's house
    King, but thyself, before this present time?
    Edward's great lineage, by the mother's side,
    Five hundred years hath held the sceptre up;
    Judge then, conspirators, by this descent
    1460Which is the true-born sovereign, this or that.
    Philip
    Father, range your battles, prate no more;
    These English fain would spend the time in words
    That, night approaching, they might escape unfought.
    King John
    Lords and my loving subjects, now's the time
    1465That your intended force must bide the touch.
    Therefore, my friends, consider this in brief:
    He that you fight for is your natural king,
    He against whom you fight a foreigner;
    He that you fight for rules in clemency
    1470And reins you with a mild and gentle bit,
    He against whom you fight, if he prevail
    Will straight enthrone himself in tyranny,
    Make slaves of you, and with a heavy hand
    Curtail and curb your sweetest liberty.
    1475Then to protect your country and your king,
    Let but the haughty courage of your hearts
    Answer the number of your able hands,
    And we shall quickly chase these fugitives.
    For what's this Edward but a belly-god,
    1480A tender and lascivious wantonness,
    That th'other day was almost dead for love?
    And what, I pray you, is his goodly guard?
    Such as, but scant them of their chines of beef
    And take away their downy featherbeds,
    1485And presently they are as resty-stiff
    As 'twere a many overridden jades.
    Then, Frenchmen, scorn that such should be your lords,
    And rather bind ye them in captive bands.
    All French
    Vive le roi! God save King John of France!
    1490King John
    Now on this plain of Crécy spread yourselves,
    And, Edward, when thou dar'st, begin the fight.
    [Exeunt King John, King of Bohemia and all the French.]
    King Edward
    We presently will meet thee, John of France.
    And, English lords, let us resolve the day,
    Either to clear us of that scandalous crime,
    1495Or be entombèd in our innocence.
    And, Ned, because this battle is the first
    That ever yet thou fought'st in pitchèd field,
    As ancient custom is of martialists
    To dub thee with the type of chivalry,
    1500In solemn manner we will give thee arms.
    Come therefore, heralds: orderly bring forth
    A strong attirement for the Prince, my son.
    Enter four heralds bringing in a coat [of] armor, a helmet, a lance, and a shield.
    1505Edward Plantagenet, in the name of God,
    As with this armor I impall thy breast,
    So be thy noble unrelenting heart
    Walled in with flint of matchless fortitude,
    That never base affections enter there.
    1510Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st.
    Now follow, lords, and do him honor too.
    Derby
    Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,
    As I do set this helmet on thy head,
    Wherewith the chamber of this brain is fenced,
    1515So may thy temples with Bellona's hand
    Be still adorned with laurel victory.
    Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st.
    Audley
    Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,
    Receive this lance into thy manly hand,
    1520Use it in fashion of a brazen pen
    To draw forth bloody stratagems in France
    And print thy valiant deeds in honor's book.
    Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st.
    Artois
    Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,
    1525Hold, take this target, wear it on thy arm
    And may the view thereof, like Perseus' shield,
    Astonish and transform thy gazing foes
    To senseless images of meager death.
    Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st.
    1530King Edward
    Now wants there naught but knighthood, which deferred
    We leave till thou hast won it in the field.
    Prince
    My gracious father and ye forward peers,
    This honor you have done me animates
    And cheers my green, yet scarce appearing, strength
    1535With comfortable good-presaging signs,
    No otherwise than did old Jacob's words,
    Whenas he breathed his blessings on his sons.
    These hallowed gifts of yours when I prophane,
    Or use them not to glory of my God,
    1540To patronage the fatherless and poor,
    Or for the benefit of England's peace,
    Be numb my joints, wax feeble both mine arms,
    Wither my heart that, like a sapless tree,
    I may remain the map of infamy.
    1545King Edward
    Then thus our steelèd battles shall be ranged:
    The leading of the vaward, Ned, is thine,
    To dignify whose lusty spirit the more
    We temper it with Audley's gravity,
    That, courage and experience joined in one,
    1550Your manage may be second unto none.
    For the main battles, I will guide myself,
    And Derby in the rearward march behind.
    That orderly disposed and set in 'ray,
    Let us to horse and God grant us the day.
    Exeunt
    [Scene 8]
    1555Alarum. Enter a many Frenchmen flying. After them Prince Edward running. Then enter King John and [the] Duke of Lorraine.
    King John
    Oh, Lorraine, say, what mean our men to fly?
    Our number is far greater than our foes.
    1560Lorraine
    The garrison of Genoese, my lord,
    That came from Paris, weary with their march,
    Grudging to be suddenly employed,
    No sooner in the forefront took their place
    But straight retiring so dismayed the rest,
    1565As likewise they betook themselves to flight;
    In which, for haste to make a safe escape,
    More in the clustering throng are pressed to death
    Than by the enemy, a thousandfold.
    King John
    O hapless fortune! Let us yet assay
    1570If we can counsel some of them to stay.
    Exeunt.
    Enter King Edward and Audley.
    King Edward
    Lord Audley, whiles our son is in the chase,
    Withdraw our powers unto this little hill,
    And here a season let us breathe ourselves.
    1575Audley
    I will, my lord.
    Exit [Audley].
    Sound retreat.
    King Edward
    Just-dooming heaven, whose secret providence
    To our gross judgement is inscrutable,
    How are we bound to praise thy wondrous works
    That hast this day given way unto the right,
    1580And made the wicked stumble at themselves.
    Enter Artois.
    Artois
    Rescue, King Edward, rescue for thy son!
    King Edward
    Rescue, Artois? What, is he prisoner?
    Or by violence fell beside his horse?
    1585Artois
    Neither, my lord, but narrowly beset
    With turning Frenchmen whom he did pursue,
    As 'tis impossible that he should scape
    Except your highness presently descend.
    King Edward
    Tut, let him fight; we gave him arms today,
    1590And he is laboring for a knighthood, man.
    Enter Derby.
    Derby
    The Prince, my lord, the Prince! Oh, succor him!
    He's close encompassed with a world of odds.
    King Edward
    Then will he win a world of honor too,
    1595If he by valor can redeem him thence;
    If not, what remedy? We have more sons
    Than one to comfort our declining age.
    Enter Audley.
    Audley
    Renownèd Edward, give me leave, I pray,
    1600To lead my soldiers where I may relieve
    Your grace's son, in danger to be slain.
    The snares of French, like emmets on a bank,
    Muster about him whilst he, lion-like,
    Entangled in the net of their assaults,
    1605Franticly rends and bites the woven toil;
    But all in vain, he cannot free himself.
    King Edward
    Audley, content; I will not have a man,
    On pain of death, sent forth to succor him.
    This is the day, ordained by destiny,
    1610To season his courage with those grievous thoughts,
    That, if he breaketh out, Nestor's years on earth
    Will make him savor still of this exploit.
    Derby
    Ah, but he shall not live to see those days.
    King Edward
    Why then his epitaph is lasting praise.
    1615Audley
    Yet, good my lord, 'tis too much willfulness
    To let his blood be spilt that may be saved.
    King Edward
    Exclaim no more, for none of you can tell
    Whether a borrowed aid will serve or no.
    Perhaps he is already slain or ta'en;
    1620And dare a falcon when she's in her flight,
    And ever after she'll be haggard-like.
    Let Edward be delivered by our hands
    And still in danger he'll expect the like;
    But if himself, himself redeem from thence,
    1625He will have vanquished, cheerful, death and fear,
    And ever after dread their force no more
    Than if they were but babes or captive slaves.
    Audley
    O cruel father! Farewell Edward, then.
    Derby
    Farewell, sweet prince, the hope of chivalry.
    1630Artois
    Oh, would my life might ransom him from death.
    [Retreat sounded within.]
    King Edward
    But soft, methinks I hear
    The dismal charge of trumpets' loud retreat.
    All are not slain, I hope, that went with him,
    Some will return with tidings, good or bad.
    1635Enter Prince Edward in triumph, bearing in his hand his shivered lance, and [the body of] the King of Bohemia, born before, wrapped in the colors. They run and embrace him.
    Audley
    Oh, joyful sight -- victorious Edward lives!
    Derby
    Welcome, brave prince.
    1640King Edward
    Welcome, Plantagenet.
    [Prince Edward] kneels and kisses his father's hand.
    Prince
    First, having done my duty as beseemed,
    Lords, I regreet you all with hearty thanks.
    And now, behold, after my winter's toil,
    My painful voyage on the boist'rous sea
    1645Of war's devouring gulfs and steely rocks,
    I bring my fraught unto the wishèd port,
    My summer's hope, my travel's sweet reward.
    And here with humble duty I present
    This sacrifice, this first fruit of my sword,
    1650Cropped and cut down even at the gate of death:
    The King of Boheme, father, whom I slew,
    Whose thousands had entrenched me round about,
    And lay as thick upon my battered crest
    As on an anvil with their ponderous glaives.
    1655Yet marble courage still did underprop,
    And when my weary arms with often blows,
    Like the continual laboring woodman's axe
    That is enjoined to fell a load of oaks,
    Began to falter, straight I would recover
    1660My gifts you gave me and my zealous vow,
    And then new courage made me fresh again;
    That, in despite, I carved my passage forth
    And put the multitude to speedy flight.
    [Prince Edward's] sword born by a soldier.
    Lo, thus hath Edward's hand filled your request
    1665And done, I hope, the duty of a knight.
    King Edward
    Ay, well thou hast deserved a knighthood, Ned.
    And therefore with thy sword, yet reeking warm
    With blood of those that fought to be thy bane,
    Arise, Prince Edward, trusty knight at arms.
    1670This day thou hast confounded me with joy
    And proved thyself fit heir unto a king.
    Prince
    Here is a note, my gracious lord, of those
    That in this conflict of our foes were slain:
    Eleven princes of esteem, fourscore barons,
    1675A hundred and twenty knights, and thirty thousand
    Common soldiers; and of our men, a thousand.
    King Edward
    Our God be praised! Now, John of France, I hope
    Thou knowst King Edward for no wantonness,
    No love-sick cockney, nor his soldiers' jades.
    1680But which way is the fearful king escaped?
    Prince
    Towards Poitiers, noble father -- and his sons.
    King Edward
    Ned, thou and Audley shall pursue them still,
    Myself and Derby will to Calais straight,
    And there begirt that haven town with siege.
    1685Now lies it on an upshot, therefore strike,
    And wistly follow whiles the game's on foot.
    What picture's this?
    Prince
    A pelican, my lord,
    Wounding her bosom with her crookèd beak,
    1690That so her nest of young ones might be fed
    With drops of blood that issue from her heart.
    The motto, Sic et vos: 'And so should you.'
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 9]
    Enter Lord Mountford with a coronet in his hand, with him the Earl of Salisbury.
    1695Mountford
    My lord of Salisbury, since by your aid
    Mine enemy, Sir Charles of Blois, is slain
    And I again am quietly possessed
    In Brittany's dukedom, know that I resolve,
    For this kind furtherance of your king and you,
    1700To swear allegiance to his majesty.
    In sign whereof receive this coronet;
    Bear it unto him, and withal mine oath
    Never to be but Edward's faithful friend.
    Salisbury
    I take it, Mountford; thus I hope ere long
    1705The whole dominions of the realm of France
    Will be surrendered to his conquering hand.
    Exit [Mountford.]
    Now, if I knew but safely how to pass,
    I would at Calais gladly meet his grace,
    Whither I am by letters certified
    1710That he intends to have his host removed.
    It shall be so, this policy will serve. --
    Ho, who's within? Bring Villiers to me.
    Enter Villiers.
    Villiers, thou knowst thou art my prisoner,
    1715And that I might for ransom, if I would,
    Require of thee a hundred thousand francs,
    Or else retain and keep thee captive still.
    But so it is, that for a smaller charge,
    Thou mayst be quit and if thou wilt thyself.
    1720And this it is: procure me but a passport
    Of Charles the Duke of Normandy, that I,
    Without restraint, may have recourse to Calais
    Through all the countries where he hath to do --
    Which thou mayst easily obtain, I think,
    1725By reason I have often heard thee say
    He and thou were students once together.
    And then thou shalt be set at liberty.
    How sayst thou? Wilt thou undertake to do it?
    Villiers
    I will, my lord, but I must speak with him.
    1730Salisbury
    Why, so thou shalt. Take horse and post from hence.
    Only, before thou go'st, swear by thy faith
    That if thou canst not compass my desire
    Thou wilt return my prisoner back again,
    And that shall be sufficient warrant for me.
    1735Villiers
    To that condition I agree, my lord,
    And will unfeignedly perform the same.
    Exit [Villiers].
    Salisbury
    Farewell, Villiers.
    Thus once I mean to try a Frenchman's faith.
    Exit.
    [Scene 10]
    Enter King Edward and Derby, with soldiers.
    1740King Edward
    Since they refuse our proffered league, my lord,
    And will not ope their gates and let us in,
    We will entrench ourselves on every side
    That neither victuals nor supply of men
    May come to succor this accursèd town;
    1745Famine shall combat where our swords are stopped.
    Enter six poor Frenchmen.
    Derby
    The promised aid that made them stand aloof
    Is now retired and gone another way;
    It will repent them of their stubborn will. --
    1750But what are these poor ragged slaves, my lord?
    King Edward
    Ask what they are; it seems they come from Calais.
    Derby
    You wretched patterns of despair and woe,
    What are you, living men or gliding ghosts,
    1755Crept from your graves to walk upon the earth?
    1 Poor Frenchman
    No ghosts, my lord, but men that breathe a life
    Far worse than is the quiet sleep of death.
    We are distressèd poor inhabitants
    That long have been diseasèd, sick and lame,
    1760And now because we are not fit to serve,
    The captain of the town hath thrust us forth
    That so expense of victuals may be saved.
    King Edward
    A charitable deed no doubt, and worthy praise!
    But how do you imagine then to speed?
    1765We are your enemies in such a case;
    We can no less but put ye to the sword,
    Since when we proffered truce, it was refused.
    1 Poor Frenchman
    And if your grace no otherwise vouchsafe,
    As welcome death is unto us as life.
    1770King Edward
    Poor silly men, much wronged and more distressed.
    Go, Derby, go, and see they be relieved;
    Command that victuals be appointed them
    And give to every one five crowns a-piece.
    [Exeunt Derby and Frenchmen.]
    The lion scorns to touch the yielding prey,
    1775And Edward's sword must fresh itself in such
    As wilful stubbornness hath made perverse.
    Enter Lord Percy.
    Lord Percy, welcome. What's the news in England?
    Percy
    The Queen, my lord, comes here to your grace,
    1780And from her highness and the lord vicegerent
    I bring this happy tidings of success:
    David of Scotland, lately up in arms,
    Thinking belike he soonest should prevail,
    Your highness being absent from the realm,
    1785Is by the fruitful service of your peers --
    And painful travail of the Queen herself
    That, big with child, was every day in arms --
    Vanquished, subdued, and taken prisoner.
    King Edward
    Thanks, Percy, for thy news with all my heart.
    1790What was he took him prisoner in the field?
    Percy
    A squire, my lord; John Copland is his name,
    Who since entreated by her majesty,
    Denies to make surrender of his prize
    To any but unto your grace alone,
    1795Whereat the Queen is grievously displeased.
    King Edward
    Well then we'll have a pursuivant dispatched
    To summon Copland hither out of hand,
    And with him he shall bring his prisoner king.
    Percy
    The Queen's, my lord, herself by this at sea,
    1800And purposeth as soon as wind will serve
    To land at Calais, and to visit you.
    King Edward
    She shall be welcome, and to wait her coming
    I'll pitch my tent near to the sandy shore.
    Enter a Captain [of Calais].
    1805Captain of Calais
    The burgesses of Calais, mighty king,
    Have by a counsel willingly decreed
    To yield the town and castle to your hands,
    Upon condition it will please your grace
    To grant them benefit of life and goods.
    1810King Edward
    They will so? Then belike they may command,
    Dispose, elect, and govern as they list.
    No, sirrah, tell them since they did refuse
    Our princely clemency at first proclaimed,
    They shall not have it now although they would.
    1815I will accept of naught but fire and sword,
    Except, within these two days, six of them
    That are the wealthiest merchants in the town
    Come naked all but for their linen shirts,
    With each a halter hanged about his neck,
    1820And prostrate yield themselves upon their knees
    To be afflicted, hanged, or what I please.
    And so you may inform their masterships.
    Exeunt [all but the Captain].
    Captain of Calais
    Why, this it is to trust a broken staff.
    Had we not been persuaded John our king
    1825Would with his army have relieved the town,
    We had not stood upon defiance so.
    But now 'tis past that no man can recall,
    And better some do go to wrack than all.
    Exit.
    [Scene 11]
    Enter [Prince] Charles [Duke] of Normandy and Villiers.
    1830Charles
    I wonder, Villiers, thou shouldst importune me
    For one that is our deadly enemy.
    Villiers
    Not for his sake, my gracious lord, so much
    Am I become an earnest advocate,
    As that thereby my ransom will be quit.
    1835Charles
    Thy ransom, man? Why needst thou talk of that?
    Art thou not free? And are not all occasions
    That happen for advantage of our foes
    To be accepted of, and stood upon?
    Villiers
    No, good my lord, except the same be just;
    1840For profit must with honor be commixed,
    Or else our actions are but scandalous.
    But letting pass these intricate objections,
    Will't please your highness to subscribe or no?
    Charles
    Villiers, I will not nor I cannot do it.
    1845Salisbury shall not have his will so much
    To claim a passport how it pleaseth himself.
    Villiers
    Why then I know the extremity, my lord:
    I must return to prison whence I came.
    Charles
    Return! I hope thou wilt not.
    1850What bird that hath escaped the fowler's gin
    Will not beware how she's ensnared again?
    Or what is he so senseless and secure
    That, having hardly passed a dangerous gulf,
    Will put himself in peril there again?
    1855Villiers
    Ah, but it is mine oath, my gracious lord,
    Which I in conscience may not violate,
    Or else a kingdom should not draw me hence.
    Charles
    Thine oath! Why that doth bind thee to abide.
    Hast thou not sworn obedience to thy prince?
    1860Villiers
    In all things that uprightly he commands.
    But either to persuade or threaten me
    Not to perform the covenant of my word
    Is lawless, and I need not to obey.
    Charles
    Why, is it lawful for a man to kill,
    1865And not to break a promise with his foe?
    Villiers
    To kill, my lord, when war is once proclaimed,
    So that our quarrel be for wrongs received,
    No doubt is lawfully permitted us;
    But in an oath we must be well advised
    1870How we do swear, and, when we once have sworn,
    Not to infringe it though we die therefor.
    Therefore, my lord, as willing I return
    As if I were to fly to paradise.
    Charles
    Stay, my Villiers, thine honorable mind
    1875Deserves to be eternally admired;
    Thy suit shall be no longer thus deferred --
    Give me the paper; I'll subscribe to it,
    And wheretofore I loved thee as Villiers,
    Hereafter I'll embrace thee as myself.
    1880Stay, and be still in favor with thy lord.
    Villiers
    I humbly thank your grace; I must dispatch
    And send this passport first unto the earl,
    And then I will attend your highness' pleasure.
    Charles
    Do so, Villiers; and, Charles, when he hath need,
    1885Be such his soldiers, howsoever he speed.
    Exit Villiers.
    Enter King John.
    King John
    Come, Charles, and arm thee: Edward is entrapped.
    The Prince of Wales is fall'n into our hands,
    And we have compassed him -- he cannot scape.
    1890Charles
    But will your highness fight today?
    King John
    What else, my son? He's scarce eight thousand strong
    And we are threescore thousand at the least.
    Charles
    I have a prophecy, my gracious lord,
    Wherein is written what success is like
    1895To happen us in this outrageous war.
    It was delivered me at Crécy's field
    By one that is an aged hermit there:
    [Reads] 'When feathered fowl shall make thine army tremble,
    And flintstones rise and break the battle 'ray,
    1900Then think on him that doth not now dissemble,
    For that shall be the hapless dreadful day;
    Yet in the end thy foot thou shalt advance,
    As far in England as thy foe in France.'
    King John
    By this it seems we shall be fortunate.
    1905For as it is impossible that stones
    Should ever rise and break the battle 'ray,
    Or airy fowl make men in arms to quake,
    So is it like we shall not be subdued.
    Or say this might be true, yet in the end,
    1910Since he doth promise we shall drive him hence
    And forage their country as they have done ours,
    By this revenge that loss will seem the less.
    But all are frivolous fancies, toys and dreams;
    Once we are sure we have ensnared the son,
    1915Catch we the father after how we can.
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 12]
    Enter Prince Edward, Audley and others.
    Prince
    Audley, the arms of death embrace us round,
    And comfort have we none save that to die
    We pay sour earnest for a sweeter life.
    1920At Crécy field our clouds of warlike smoke
    Choked up those French mouths and dissevered them,
    But now their multitudes of millions hide,
    Masking as 'twere the beauteous burning sun,
    Leaving no hope to us but sullen dark
    1925And eyeless terror of all-ending night.
    Audley
    This sudden, mighty, and expedient head
    That they have made, fair Prince, is wonderful.
    Before us in the valley lies the King,
    Vantaged with all that heaven and earth can yield,
    1930His party stronger battled than our whole.
    His son, the braving Duke of Normandy,
    Hath trimmed the mountain on our right hand up
    In shining plate, that now the aspiring hill
    Shows like a silver quarry, or an orb
    1935Aloft the which the banners, bannerets,
    And new-replenished pendants cuff the air
    And beat the winds, that for their gaudiness
    Struggles to kiss them. On our left hand lies
    Philip, the younger issue of the King,
    1940Coting the other hill in such array
    That all his gilded upright pikes do seem
    Straight trees of gold; the pendants, leaves,
    And their device of antique heraldry,
    Quartered in colors seeming sundry fruits,
    1945Makes it the orchard of the Hesperides.
    Behind us too the hill doth bear his height,
    For like a half-moon opening but one way,
    It rounds us in -- there at our backs are lodged
    The fatal crossbows, and the battle there
    1950Is governed by the rough Chatillon.
    Then thus it stands: the valley for our flight
    The King binds in, the hills on either hand
    Are proudly royalizèd by his sons,
    And on the hill behind stands certain death
    1955In pay and service with Chatillon.
    Prince
    Death's name is much more mighty than 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,
    Easily ta'en up and quickly thrown away.
    But if I stand to count them sand by sand,
    The number would confound my memory
    And make a thousand millions of a task
    1965Which briefly is no more indeed than one.
    These quarters, squadrons, and these regiments,
    Before, behind us, and on either hand,
    Are but a power. When we name a man,
    His hand, his foot, his head hath several strengths,
    1970And being all but one self instant strength.
    Why, all this many, Audley, is but one,
    And we can call it all but one man's strength.
    He that hath far to go, tells it by miles;
    If he should tell the steps, it kills his heart.
    1975The drops are infinite that make a flood,
    And yet thou knowst we call it but a rain.
    There is but one France, one King of France:
    That France hath no more kings, and that same king
    Hath but the puissant legion of one king;
    1980And we have one. Then apprehend no odds,
    For one to one is fair equality.
    Enter a Herald from King John.
    What tidings, messenger? Be plain and brief.
    1 Herald
    The King of France, my sovereign lord and master,
    1985Greets by me his foe, the Prince of Wales.
    If thou call forth a hundred men of name,
    Of lords, knights, esquires and English gentlemen,
    And with thyself and those kneel at his feet,
    He straight will fold his bloody colors up
    1990And ransom shall redeem lives forfeited.
    If not, this day shall drink more English blood
    Then e're was buried in our Breton earth.
    What is the answer to his proffered mercy?
    Prince
    This heaven that covers France contains the mercy
    1995That draws from me submissive orisons;
    That such base breath should vanish from my lips
    To urge the plea of mercy to a man
    The Lord forbid. Return and tell thy king
    My tongue is made of steel, and it shall beg
    2000My mercy on his coward burgonet.
    Tell him my colors are as red as his,
    My men as bold, our English arms as strong:
    Return him my defiance in his face.
    1 Herald
    I go.
    [Exit Herald.]
    2005Enter another [Herald].
    Prince
    What news with thee?
    2 Herald
    The Duke of Normandy, my lord and master,
    Pitying thy youth is so engirt with peril,
    By me hath sent a nimble-jointed jennet,
    2010As swift as ever yet thou didst bestride,
    And therewithal he counsels thee to fly,
    Else death himself hath sworn that thou shalt die.
    Prince
    Back with the beast unto the beast that sent him!
    Tell him I cannot sit a coward's horse;
    2015Bid him today bestride the jade himself,
    For I will stain my horse quite o'er with blood
    And double gild my spurs, but I will catch him.
    So tell the cap'ring boy, and get thee gone.
    [Exit 2 Herald.]
    Enter another [Herald].
    20203 Herald
    Edward of Wales, Philip the second son
    To the most mighty Christian King of France,
    Seeing thy body's living date expired,
    All full of charity and Christian love,
    Commends this book full fraught with prayers
    2025To thy fair hand, and, for thy hour of life,
    Entreats thee that thou meditate therein
    And arm thy soul for her long journey towards.
    Thus have I done his bidding, and return.
    Prince
    Herald of Philip, greet thy lord from me.
    2030All good that he can send I can receive,
    But thinkst thou not the unadvisèd boy
    Hath wronged himself in thus far tend'ring me?
    Haply he cannot pray without the book,
    I think him no divine extemporal.
    2035Then render back this commonplace of prayer
    To do himself good in adversity.
    Besides, he knows not my sins' quality,
    And therefore knows no prayers for my avail.
    Ere night his prayer may be to pray to God
    2040To put it in my heart to hear his prayer --
    So tell the courtly wanton, and be gone.
    3 Herald
    I go.
    [Exit 3 Herald.]
    Prince
    How confident their strength and number makes them!
    Now, Audley, sound those silver wings of thine
    2045And let those milk-white messengers of time
    Show thy time's learning in this dangerous time.
    Thyself art busy and bit with many broils,
    And stratagems forepast with iron pens
    Are texted in thine honorable face.
    2050Thou art a married man in this distress,
    But danger woos me as a blushing maid:
    Teach me an answer to this perilous time.
    Audley
    To die is all as common as to live,
    The one in choice, the other holds in chase;
    2055For from the instant we begin to live
    We do pursue and hunt the time to die.
    First bud we, then we blow, and after seed,
    Then presently we fall, and as a shade
    Follows the body, so we follow death.
    2060If then we hunt for death, why do we fear it?
    If we fear it, why do we follow it?
    If we do fear, how can we shun it?
    If we do fear, with fear we do but aid
    The thing we fear to seize on us the sooner.
    2065If we fear not, then no resolvèd proffer
    Can overthrow the limit of our fate;
    For whether ripe or rotten, drop we shall,
    As we do draw the lottery of our doom.
    Prince
    Ah, good old man, a thousand thousand armors
    2070These words of thine have buckled on my back.
    Ah, what an idiot hast thou made of life
    To seek the thing it fears; and how disgraced
    The imperial victory of murd'ring death,
    Since all the lives his conquering arrows strike
    2075Seek him, and he not them, to shame his glory.
    I will not give a penny for a life,
    Nor half a halfpenny to shun grim death;
    Since for to live is but to seek to die,
    And dying but beginning of new life.
    2080Let come the hour when he that rules it will,
    To live or die I hold indifferent.
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 13]
    Enter King John and Charles.
    King John
    A sudden darkness hath defaced the sky,
    The winds are crept into their caves for fear,
    2085The leaves move not, the world is hushed and still,
    The birds cease singing, and the wand'ring brooks
    Murmur no wonted greeting to their shores;
    Silence attends some wonder, and expecteth
    That heaven should pronounce some prophecy.
    2090Where or from whom proceeds this silence, Charles?
    Charles
    Our men with open mouths and staring eyes
    Look on each other, as they did attend
    Each other's words, and yet no creature speaks.
    A tongue-tied fear hath made a midnight hour,
    2095And speeches sleep through all the waking regions.
    King John
    But now the pompous sun in all his pride
    Looked through his golden coach upon the world,
    And on a sudden hath he hid himself
    That now the under earth is as a grave:
    2100Dark, deadly, silent, and uncomfortable.
    A clamor of ravens.
    Hark, what a deadly outcry do I hear?
    [Enter Philip.]
    Charles
    Here comes my brother, Philip.
    King John
    All dismayed.
    What fearful words are those thy looks presage?
    Philip
    A flight, a flight!
    2105King John
    Coward, what flight? Thou liest -- there needs no flight.
    Philip
    A flight!
    King John
    Awake thy craven powers, and tell on
    The substance of that very fear indeed
    Which is so ghastly printed in thy face.
    2110What is the matter?
    Philip
    A flight of ugly ravens
    Do croak and hover o'er our soldiers' heads,
    And keep in triangles and cornered squares
    Right as our forces are embattled.
    2115With their approach there came this sudden fog,
    Which now hath hid the airy flower of heaven
    And made at noon a night unnatural
    Upon the quaking and dismayèd world.
    In brief, our soldiers have let fall their arms
    2120And stand like metamorphosed images,
    Bloodless and pale, one gazing on another.
    King John
    Ay, now I call to mind the prophecy,
    But I must give no entrance to a fear.
    Return and hearten up these yielding souls:
    2125Tell them the ravens, seeing them in arms --
    So many fair against a famished few --
    Come but to dine upon their handiwork
    And prey upon the carrion that they kill.
    For when we see a horse laid down to die,
    2130Although not dead, the ravenous birds
    Sit watching the departure of his life;
    Even so these ravens for the carcasses
    Of those poor English that are marked to die
    Hover about, and if they cry to us
    2135'Tis but for meat that we must kill for them.
    Away, and comfort up my soldiers,
    And sound the trumpets, and at once dispatch
    This little business of a silly fraud.
    Exit Philip.
    Another noise; Salisbury brought in by a 2140French Captain.
    French Captain
    Behold, my liege, this knight and forty more,
    Of whom the better part are slain and fled,
    With all endeavor sought to break our ranks
    And make their way to the encompassed Prince.
    2145Dispose of him as please your majesty.
    King John
    Go, and the next bough, soldier, that thou seest,
    Disgrace it with his body presently;
    For I do hold a tree in France too good,
    To be the gallows of an English thief.
    2150Salisbury
    My lord of Normandy, I have your pass
    And warrant for my safety through this land.
    Charles
    Villiers procured it for thee, did he not?
    Salisbury
    He did.
    Charles
    And it is current; thou shalt freely pass.
    2155King John
    Ay, freely to the gallows to be hanged,
    Without denial or impediment.
    Away with him.
    Charles
    I hope your highness will not so disgrace me
    And dash the virtue of my seal at arms.
    2160He hath my never-broken name to show,
    Charact'red with this princely hand of mine;
    And rather let me leave to be a prince
    Than break the stable verdict of a prince.
    I do beseech you let him pass in quiet.
    2165King John
    Thou and thy word lie both in my command.
    What canst thou promise that I cannot break?
    Which of these twain is greater infamy:
    To disobey thy father or thy self?
    Thy word, nor no man's, may exceed his power,
    2170Nor that same man doth never break his word
    That keeps it to the utmost of his power.
    The breach of faith dwells in the soul's consent,
    Which if thyself without consent do break
    Thou art not chargèd with the breach of faith.
    2175Go, hang him; for thy licence lies in me,
    And my constraint stands the excuse for thee.
    Charles
    What, am I not a soldier in my word?
    Then arms, adieu, and let them fight that list.
    Shall I not give my girdle from my waist,
    2180But with a guardian I shall be controlled
    To say I may not give my things away?
    Upon my soul, had Edward Prince of Wales
    Engaged his word, writ down his noble hand
    For all your knights to pass his father's land,
    2185The royal King, to grace his warlike son,
    Would not alone safe conduct give to them,
    But with all bounty feasted them and theirs.
    King John
    Dwellst thou on precedents? Then be it so.
    Say, Englishman, of what degree thou art.
    2190Salisbury
    An earl in England, though a prisoner here,
    And those that know me call me Salisbury.
    King John
    Then, Salisbury, say whither thou art bound.
    Salisbury
    To Calais, where my liege, King Edward, is.
    King John
    To Calais, Salisbury? Then to Calais pack,
    2195And bid the King prepare a noble grave
    To put his princely son, black Edward, in.
    And as thou travelst westward from this place,
    Some two leagues hence there is a lofty hill
    Whose top seems topless, for the embracing sky
    2200Doth hide his high head in her azure bosom;
    Upon whose tall top, when thy foot attains,
    Look back upon the humble vale beneath,
    Humble of late, but now made proud with arms,
    And thence behold the wretched Prince of Wales
    2205Hooped with a bond of iron round about.
    After which sight, to Calais spur amain
    And say the Prince was smothered and not slain;
    And tell the King this is not all his ill
    For I will greet him ere he thinks I will.
    2210Away, be gone! The smoke but of our shot
    Will choke our foes, though bullets hit them not.
    [Exeunt.]
    [Scene 14]
    Alarum. Enter Prince Edward and Artois.
    Artois
    How fares your grace? Are you not shot, my lord?
    Prince
    No, dear Artois, but choked with dust and smoke,
    2215And stepped aside for breath and fresher air.
    Artois
    Breathe then, and to it again. The amazed French
    Are quite distract with gazing on the crows,
    And were our quivers full of shafts again
    Your grace should see a glorious day of this.
    2220O for more arrows, Lord; that's our want.
    Prince
    Courage, Artois; a fig for feathered shafts
    When feathered fowls do bandy on our side!
    What need we fight and sweat and keep a coil,
    When railing crows outscold our adversaries?
    2225Up, up, Artois! The ground itself is armed
    With fire-containing flint; command our bows
    To hurl away their pretty colored yew
    And to it with stones. Away, Artois, away!
    My soul doth prophecy we win the day.
    Exeunt.
    2230Alarum. Enter King John.
    King John
    Our multitudes are in themselves confounded,
    Dismayèd, and distraught; swift-starting fear
    Hath buzzed a cold dismay through all our army,
    And every petty disadvantage prompts
    2235The fear-possessèd abject soul to fly.
    Myself, whose spirit is steel to their dull lead,
    What with recalling of the prophecy,
    And that our native stones from English arms
    Rebel against us, find myself attainted
    2240With strong surprise of weak and yielding fear.
    Enter Charles.
    Charles
    Fly, father, fly! The French do kill the French:
    Some that would stand let drive at some that fly.
    Our drums strike nothing but discouragement,
    2245Our trumpets sound dishonor and retire,
    The spirit of fear that feareth naught but death
    Cowardly works confusion on itself.
    Enter Philip.
    Philip
    Pluck out your eyes, and see not this day's shame!
    2250An arm hath beat an army: one poor David
    Hath with a stone foiled twenty stout Goliaths;
    Some twenty naked starvelings with small flints
    Hath driven back a puissant host of men
    Arrayed and fenced in all accomplements.
    2255King John
    Mort Dieu! They quoit at us and kill us up.
    No less than forty thousand wicked elders
    Have forty lean slaves this day stoned to death.
    Charles
    Oh, that I were some other countryman!
    This day hath set derision on the French
    2260And all the world will blurt and scorn at us.
    King John
    What, is there no hope left?
    Philip
    No hope but death to bury up our shame.
    King John
    Make up once more with me! The twentieth part
    Of those that live are men enow to quail
    2265The feeble handful on the adverse part.
    Charles
    Then charge again; if heaven be not opposed
    We cannot lose the day.
    King John
    On, away.
    Exeunt.
    Enter Audley wounded and rescued by two Esquires.
    22701 Esquire
    How fares my lord?
    Audley
    Even as a man may do
    That dines at such a bloody feast as this.
    2 Esquire
    I hope, my lord, that is no mortal scar.
    Audley
    No matter if it be, the count is cast,
    2275And in the worst ends but a mortal man.
    Good friends, convey me to the princely Edward,
    That in the crimson bravery of my blood
    I may become him with saluting him;
    I'll smile and tell him that this open scar
    2280Doth end the harvest of his Audley's war.
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 15]
    Enter Prince Edward, [with] King John [and] Charles [as prisoners], and all with ensigns spread. Retreat sounded.
    Prince
    Now John in France, and lately John of France,
    2285Thy bloody ensigns are my captive colors,
    And you, high vaunting Charles of Normandy,
    That once today sent me a horse to fly,
    Are now the subjects of my clemency.
    Fie, lords, is't not a shame that English boys,
    2290Whose early days are yet not worth a beard,
    Should in the bosom of your kingdom thus,
    One against twenty, beat you up together?
    King John
    Thy fortune, not thy force, hath conquered us.
    Prince
    An argument that heaven aids the right.
    [Enter Artois, with Philip as prisoner.]
    2295See, see, Artois doth bring with him along
    The late good counsel-giver to my soul.
    Welcome, Artois, and welcome Philip too.
    Who now, of you or I, have need to pray?
    Now is the proverb verified in you:
    2300Too bright a morning breeds a louring day.
    Sound trumpets; enter Audley [led by the two Esquires].
    But say, what grim discouragement comes here?
    Alas, what thousand armèd men of France
    Have writ that note of death in Audley's face?
    2305Speak thou, that woost death with thy careless smile
    And lookst so merrily upon thy grave
    As if thou wert enamored on thine end:
    What hungry sword hath so bereaved thy face
    And lopped a true friend from my loving soul?
    2310Audley
    O Prince, thy sweet bemoaning speech to me
    Is as a mournful knell to one dead sick.
    Prince
    Dear Audley, if my tongue ring out thy end,
    My arms shall be thy grave. What may I do
    To win thy life or to revenge thy death?
    2315If thou wilt drink the blood of captive kings,
    Or that it were restorative, command
    A health of kings' blood, and I'll drink to thee.
    If honor may dispense for thee with death,
    The never-dying honor of this day
    2320Share wholly, Audley, to thyself and live.
    Audley
    Victorious Prince, that thou art so, behold
    A caesar's fame in kings' captivity.
    If I could hold dim death but at a bay
    Till I did see my liege, thy royal father,
    2325My soul should yield this castle of my flesh,
    This mangled tribute with all willingness
    To darkness, consummation, dust and worms.
    Prince
    Cheerily, bold man; thy soul is all too proud
    To yield her city for one little breach,
    2330Should be divorcèd from her earthly spouse
    By the soft temper of a Frenchman's sword.
    Lo, to repair thy life I give to thee
    Three thousand marks a year in English land.
    Audley
    I take thy gift to pay the debts I owe:
    2335These two poor esquires redeemed me from the French
    With lusty and dear hazard of their lives;
    What thou hast given me I give to them,
    And as thou lov'st me, Prince, lay thy consent
    To this bequeath in my last testament.
    2340Prince
    Renownèd Audley, live and have from me
    This gift twice doubled to these esquires and thee;
    But live or die, what thou hast given away
    To these and theirs shall lasting freedom stay.
    Come, gentlemen, I will see my friend bestowed
    2345Within an easy litter; then we'll march
    Proudly toward Calais with triumphant pace
    Unto my royal father; and there bring
    The tribute of my wars, fair France his king.
    Exeunt.
    [Scene 16]
    Enter King Edward, Queen Philippa, Derby, soldiers.
    King Edward
    No more, Queen Philippe, pacify yourself;
    Copland, except he can excuse his fault,
    Shall find displeasure written in our looks.
    2355And now unto this proud resisting town:
    Soldiers, assault! I will no longer stay
    To be deluded by their false delays.
    Put all to sword, and make the spoil your own.
    Enter six Citizens in their shirts, barefoot, with 2350halters about their necks.
    All Citizens
    Mercy, King Edward, mercy, gracious lord!
    2360King Edward
    Contemptuous villains, call ye now for truce?
    Mine ears are stopped against your bootless cries.
    Sound drums' alarum, draw threat'ning swords!
    1 Citizen
    Ah, noble prince, take pity on this town,
    And hear us, mighty king.
    2365We claim the promise that your highness made;
    The two days' respite is not yet expired,
    And we are come with willingness to bear
    What torturing death or punishment you please
    So that the trembling multitude be saved.
    2370King Edward
    My promise? Well I do confess as much;
    But I require the chiefest citizens
    And men of most account that should submit.
    You, peradventure, are but servile grooms,
    Or some felonious robbers on the sea,
    2375Whom, apprehended, law would execute,
    Albeit severity lay dead in us.
    No, no, ye cannot overreach us thus.
    2 Citizen
    The sun, dread lord, that in the western fall
    Beholds us now low brought through misery,
    2380Did in the orient purple of the morn
    Salute our coming forth when we were known,
    Or may our portion be with damnèd fiends.
    King Edward
    If it be so, then let our covenant stand:
    We take possession of the town in peace,
    2385But for yourselves look you for no remorse,
    But, as imperial justice hath decreed,
    Your bodies shall be dragged about these walls,
    And after feel the stroke of quartering steel.
    This is your doom -- go, soldiers, see it done.
    2390Queen
    Ah, be more mild unto these yielding men.
    It is a glorious thing to 'stablish peace,
    And kings approach the nearest unto God
    By giving life and safety unto men.
    As thou intendest to be King of France,
    2395So let her people live to call thee king;
    For what the sword cuts down or fire hath spoiled
    Is held in reputation none of ours.
    King Edward
    Although experience teach us this is true,
    That peaceful quietness brings most delight
    2400When most of all abuses are controlled,
    Yet insomuch it shall be known that we
    As well can master our affections
    As conquer other by the dint of sword,
    Philippe, prevail; we yield to thy request.
    2405These men shall live to boast of clemency --
    And, tyranny, strike terror to thyself.
    All Citizens
    Long live your highness, happy be your reign!
    King Edward
    Go, get you hence; return unto the town,
    And if this kindness hath deserved your love
    2410Learn then to reverence Edward as your king.
    [Exeunt Citizens.]
    Now might we hear of our affairs abroad;
    We would, till gloomy winter were o'erspent,
    Dispose our men in garrison a while.
    But who comes here?
    2415Enter Copland and King David.
    Derby
    Copland, my lord, and David King of Scots.
    King Edward
    Is this the proud presumptuous esquire of the
    North
    That would not yield his prisoner to my queen?
    2420Copland
    I am, my liege, a northern esquire indeed,
    But neither proud nor insolent I trust.
    King Edward
    What moved thee then to be so obstinate
    To contradict our royal queen's desire?
    Copland
    No wilful disobedience, mighty lord,
    2425But my desert and public law at arms.
    I took the King myself in single fight
    And like a soldier would be loath to lose
    The least pre-eminence that I had won.
    And Copland straight upon your highness' charge
    2430Is come to France, and with a lowly mind
    Doth vail the bonnet of his victory.
    Receive, dread lord, the custom of my fraught,
    The wealthy tribute of my laboring hands,
    Which should long since have been surrendered up
    2435Had but your gracious self been there in place.
    Queen
    But, Copland, thou didst scorn the King's command,
    Neglecting our commission in his name.
    Copland
    His name I reverence, but his person more;
    His name shall keep me in allegiance still,
    2440But to his person I will bend my knee.
    King Edward
    I pray thee, Philippe, let displeasure pass:
    This man doth please me, and I like his words.
    For what is he that will attempt great deeds
    And lose the glory that ensues the same?
    2445All rivers have recourse unto the sea,
    And Copland's faith, relation to his king.
    Kneel therefore down -- now rise King Edward's knight;
    And to maintain thy state I freely give
    Five hundred marks a year to thee and thine.
    Enter Salisbury.
    2450Welcome, Lord Salisbury -- what news from Brittany?
    Salisbury
    This, mighty king: the country we have won,
    And Charles de Mountford, regent of that place,
    Presents your highness with this coronet,
    2455Protesting true allegiance to your grace.
    King Edward
    We thank thee for thy service, valiant earl;
    Challenge our favor for we owe it thee.
    Salisbury
    But now, my lord, as this is joyful news,
    So must my voice be tragical again
    2460And I must sing of doleful accidents.
    King Edward
    What, have our men the overthrow at Poitiers?
    Or is our son beset with too much odds?
    Salisbury
    He was, my lord, and as my worthless self
    With forty other serviceable knights,
    2465Under safe conduct of the Dauphin's seal
    Did travel that way, finding him distressed,
    A troop of lances met us on the way,
    Surprised, and brought us prisoners to the King;
    Who, proud of this and eager of revenge,
    2470Commanded straight to cut off all our heads.
    And surely we had died but that the duke,
    More full of honor than his angry sire,
    Procured our quick deliverance from thence.
    But ere we went, 'Salute your king,' quoth he,
    2475'Bid him provide a funeral for his son;
    Today our sword shall cut his thread of life,
    And sooner than he thinks we'll be with him
    To quittance those displeasures he hath done.'
    This said, we passed, not daring to reply;
    2480Our hearts were dead, our looks diffused and wan.
    Wand'ring, at last we climbed unto a hill
    From whence, although our grief were much before,
    Yet now to see the occasion with our eyes
    Did thrice so much increase our heaviness,
    2485For there, my lord, oh, there we did descry
    Down in a valley how both armies lay:
    The French had cast their trenches like a ring,
    And every barricado's open front
    Was thick embossed with brazen ordinance.
    2490Here stood a battle of ten thousand horse,
    There twice as many pikes in quadrant wise,
    Here crossbows and deadly wounding darts,
    And in the midst -- like to a slender point
    Within the compass of the horizon,
    2495As 'twere a rising bubble in the sea,
    A hazel wand amidst a wood of pines,
    Or as a bear fast chained unto a stake --
    Stood famous Edward, still expecting when
    Those dogs of France would fasten on his flesh.
    2500Anon the death-procuring knell begins,
    Off go the cannons that with trembling noise
    Did shake the very mountain where they stood;
    Then sound the trumpets clangor in the air,
    The battles join, and when we could no more
    2505Discern the difference 'twixt the friend and foe,
    So intricate the dark confusion was,
    Away we turned our wat'ry eyes with sighs
    As black as powder fuming into smoke.
    And thus, I fear, unhappy have I told
    2510The most untimely tale of Edward's fall.
    Ah me, is this my welcome into France?
    Is this the comfort that I looked to have
    When I should meet with my belovèd son?
    Sweet Ned, I would thy mother in the sea
    2515Had been prevented of this mortal grief.
    King Edward
    Content thee, Philippe: 'tis not tears will serve
    To call him back if he be taken hence.
    Comfort thyself as I do, gentle queen,
    With hope of sharp unheard of dire revenge.
    2520He bids me to provide his funeral!
    And so I will; but all the peers in France
    Shall mourners be, and weep out bloody tears
    Until their empty veins be dry and sere.
    The pillars of his hearse shall be their bones,
    2525The mould that covers him, their city ashes,
    His knell, the groaning cries of dying men,
    And in the stead of tapers on his tomb
    An hundred fifty towers shall burning blaze
    While we bewail our valiant son's decease.
    2530After a flourish sounded within, enter a Herald.
    Herald
    Rejoice, my lord, ascend the imperial throne!
    The mighty and redoubted Prince of Wales,
    Great servitor to bloody Mars in arms,
    The Frenchman's terror and his country's fame,
    2535Triumphant rideth like a Roman peer,
    And, lowly at his stirrup, comes afoot
    King John of France, together with his son
    In captive bonds, whose diadem he brings
    To crown thee with and to proclaim thee king.
    2540King Edward
    Away with mourning, Philippe, wipe thine eyes.
    Sound trumpets, welcome in Plantagenet!
    Enter Prince Edward, King John, Philip, Audley [and] Artois.
    As things long lost when they are found again,
    2545So doth my son rejoice his father's heart,
    For whom even now my soul was much perplexed.
    Be this a token to express my joy --
    Kiss him.
    For inward passions will not let me speak.
    Prince
    My gracious father, here receive the gift,
    2550This wreath of conquest and reward of war,
    Got with as mickle peril of our lives
    As e're was thing of price before this day.
    Install your highness in your proper right,
    And herewithal I render to your hands
    2555These prisoners, chief occasion of our strife.
    King Edward
    So, John of France, I see you keep your word:
    You promised to be sooner with ourself
    Than we did think for, and 'tis so indeed.
    But had you done at first as now you do,
    2560How many civil towns had stood untouched
    That now are turned to ragged heaps of stones?
    How many people's lives mightst thou have saved
    That are untimely sunk into their graves?
    King John
    Edward, recount not things irrevocable;
    2565Tell me what ransom thou requirest to have.
    King Edward
    Thy ransom, John, hereafter shall be known.
    But first to England thou must cross the seas
    To see what entertainment it affords;
    Howeʼer it falls, it cannot be so bad
    2570As ours hath been since we arrived in France.
    King John
    Accursèd man! Of this I was foretold
    But did misconster what the prophet told.
    Prince
    Now, father, this petition Edward makes
    To thee, whose grace hath been his strongest shield:
    2575That as thy pleasure chose me for the man
    To be the instrument to show thy power,
    So thou wilt grant that many princes more,
    Bred and brought up within that little isle,
    May still be famous for like victories.
    2580And for my part, the bloody scars I bear,
    The weary nights that I have watched in field,
    The dangerous conflicts I have often had,
    The fearful menaces were proffered me,
    The heat and cold, and what else might displease,
    2585I wish were now redoubled twentyfold,
    So that hereafter ages, when they read
    The painful traffic of my tender youth,
    Might thereby be inflamed with such resolve
    As not the territories of France alone,
    2590But likewise Spain, Turkey, and what countries else
    That justly would provoke fair England's ire,
    Might at their presence tremble and retire.
    King Edward
    Here, English lords, we do proclaim a rest,
    An intercession of our painful arms.
    2595Sheath up your swords, refresh your weary limbs,
    Peruse your spoils, and after we have breathed
    A day or two within this haven town,
    God willing then for England we'll be shipped,
    Where in a happy hour I trust we shall
    2600Arrive, three kings, two princes, and a queen.
    [Exeunt.]
    FINIS.