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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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    [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.
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