Shakespeare's Kings
Page 42
THE REIGN OF KING EDWARD THE THIRD
ACT I SCENE I
London. A Room of State in the Palace. Enter King Edward, Derby, Prince Edward, Audley, and Artois.
K. ED. Robert of Artois, banish'd though thou be
From France, thy native country, yet with us
Thou shalt retain as great a signiory;
For we create thee Earl of Richmond here.
And now go forwards with our pedigree;
Who next succeeded Philip Le Beau?
ART. Three sons of his; which all, successively,
Did sit upon their father's regal throne,
Yet died and left no issue of their loins.
K. ED. But was my mother sister unto those?
ART. 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,
Your gracious self, the flower of Europe's hope,
Derived is inheritor to France.
But note the rancour of rebellious minds.
When thus the lineage of Le Beau was out,
The French obscur'd your mother's privilege;
And, though she were the next of blood, proclaim'd
John, of the house of Valois, now their king:
The reason was, they say, the realm of France,
(I, i) Replete with princes of great parentage,
Ought not admit a governor to rule
Except he be descended of the male;
And that's the special ground of their contempt
Wherewith they study to exclude your grace:
K. ED. But they shall find that forged ground of theirs
To be but dusty heaps of brittle sand.
ART. 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,
Provokes 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,
Than striving to rebate a tyrant's pride
And place the true shepherd of our commonwealth?
K. ED. This counsel, Artois, like to fruitful showers,
Hath added growth unto my dignity:
And, by the fiery vigour of thy words,
Hot courage is engendered in my breast,
Which heretofore was rack'd 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
That spurn against my sov'reignty in France.-
Sound a horn
A messenger? - Lord Audley, know from whence.
Enter, as messenger, Lorraine
AUD. The Duke of Lorraine, having cross'd the seas,
Entreats he may have conference with your highness.
K. ED. Admit him, lords, that we may hear the news. -
Say, Duke of Lorraine, wherefore art thou come?
LOR. The most renowned prince, K[ing] John of France,
Doth greet thee, Edward: and by me commands,
That, for so much as by his liberal gift
The Giiyenne dukedom is entail'd 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,
Thou may'st be sworn true liegeman to our king;
Or, else thy title in that province dies,
And he himself will repossess the place.
K. ED. See, how occasion laughs me in the face!
No sooner minded to prepare for France,
But straight I am invited, nay, with threats,
Upon a penalty, enjoin'd 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;
But how? not servilely dispos'd to bend,
But like a conqueror, to make him bow,
His lame unpolish'd shifts are come to light,
And truth hath pull'd the vizard from his face
That set a gloss upon his arrogance.
Dare 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;
Which if with grudging he refuse to yield,
I'll take away those borrow'd plumes of his
And send him naked to the wilderness.
LOR.
Then, Edward, here, in spite of all thy lords,
I do pronounce defiance to thy face.
PR. ED.
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,
And 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 warned by his harm.
WAR.
Bid him leave off the lion's case he wears,
Lest, meeting with the lion in the field,
He chance to tear him piecemeal for his pride.
ART. The soundest counsel I can give his grace
Is to surrender ere he be constrain'd.
A voluntary mischief hath less scorn,
Than when reproach with violence is borne.
LOR.
Degenerate traitor, viper to the place
Where thou wast foster'd in thine infancy,
Bear'st thou a part in this conspiracy?
He draws his sword
K. ED. Lorraine, behold the sharpness of this steel:
Drawing his
Fervent desire, that sits against my heart,
Is far more thorny-pricking than this blade;
That, with the nightingale, I shall be scar'd,
As oft as I dispose myself to rest,
Until my colours be display'd in France.
This is thy final answer; so be gone.
LOR. It is not that, nor any English brave,
Afflicts me so, as doth his poison'd view,
That is most false, should most of all be true.
Exeunt Lorraine
K. ED. 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?
How stands the league between the Scot and us?
MON. Crack'd and dissever'd, my renowned lord.
The treacherous king no sooner was inform'd
Of your withdrawing of your army back,
But straight, forgetting of his former oath,
He made invasion on the bordering towns.
Berwick is won; Newcastle spoil'd and lost;
And now the tyrant hath begirt with siege
The castle of Roxborough, where enclos'd
The Countess Salisbury is like to perish.
K. ED. That is thy daughter, Warwick - is it not? -
Whose husband hath in Britain serv'd so long,
About the planting of Lord Mountford there?
WAR. It is, my lord.
K. ED. Ignoble David! hast thou none to grieve,
But si
lly 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:
In every shire elect a several band.
Let them be soldiers of a lusty spirit,
Such as dread nothing but dishonour's blot:
Be wary therefore; since we do commence
A famous war and with so mighty a nation.
Derby, be thou ambassador for us.
(I, i) 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 to
The Emperor of Almaine in our name.
Myself, whilst you are jointly thus employ'd,
Will, with these forces that I have at hand,
March and once more repulse the trait'rous Scot.
But, sirs, be resolute; we shall have wars
On every side: and, Ned, thou must begin
Now to forget thy study and thy books
And ure thy shoulders to an armour's weight.
PR. ED. As cheerful sounding to my youthful spleen
This tumult is of war's increasing broils,
As at the coronation of a king
The joyful clamours of the people are When,
'Ave, Caesar!' they pronounce aloud.
Within this school of honour I shall learn,
Either to sacrifice my foes to death
Or in a rightful quarrel spend my breath.
Then cheerfully forward, each a several way;
In great affairs 'tis naught to use delay.
Exeunt
SCENE II
Roxborough. Before the Castle. Enter the Countess above.
[COUNT.] Alas, how much in vain my poor eyes gaze
For succour that my sovereign should send!
Ah, cousin Montague, I fear, thou want'st
The lively spirit sharply to solicit
With vehement suit the king in my behalf:
Thou dost not tell him, what a grief it is
To be the scornful captive to a Scot;
Either to be woo'd with broad untuned oaths,
Or forc'd by rough insulting barbarism:
Thou dost not tell him, if he here prevail,
How much they will deride us in the north;
And, in their wild, uncivil, skipping jigs,
Bray forth their conquest and our overthrow,
Even in the barren, bleak, and fruitless air.
Enter David and Douglas, Lorraine
I must withdraw; the everlasting foe
(I, ii) Comes to the wall: I'll closely step aside,
And list their babble, blunt and full of pride.
K. DAV. My Lord of Lorraine, to our brother of France
Commend us, as the man in Christendom
Whom 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 neighbour towns, and so persist
With eager rods beyond their city York.
And never shall our bonny riders rest,
Nor rusting canker we have the time to eat
Their light-borne snaffles nor their nimble spurs;
Nor lay aside their jacks of gimmaled mail;
Nor hang their staves of grained Scottish ash
In peaceful wise upon their city walls;
Nor from their button'd tawny leathern belts
Dismiss their biting whinyards, till your king
Cry out, 'Enough; spare England now for pity.'
Farewell, and tell him, that you leave us here
this castle; say, you came from us
Even when we had that yielded to our hands.
LOR. I take my leave, and fairly will return
Your acceptable greeting to my king.
Exit Lor.
K. DAV. Now, Douglas, to our former task again,
For the division of this certain spoil.
DOUG. My liege, I crave the lady, and no more.
K. DAV. Nay, soft ye, sir, first I must make my choice;
And first I do bespeak her for myself.
DOUG. Why, then, my liege, let me enjoy her jewels.
K. DAV. Those are her own, still liable to her,
And, who inherits her, hath those withal.
Enter a Scot [as Messenger] in haste
MESS. My liege, as we were pricking on the hills,
To fetch in booty, marching hitherward
We might descry a mighty host of men;
The sun, reflecting on the armour, show'd
A field of plate, a wood of pikes advanc'd.
Bethink your highness speedily herein:
An easy march within four hours will bring
The hindmost rank unto this place, my liege.
K. DAV. Dislodge, dislodge, it is the King of England.
DOUG. Jemmy my man, saddle my bonny black.
K. DAV. Mean'st thou to fight, Douglas? We are too weak.
DOUG. I know it well, my liege, and therefore fly.
. My lords of Scotland, will ye stay and drink?
K. DAV. She mocks at us; Douglas, I can't endure it.
COUNT. Say, good my lord, which is he, must have the lady,
And which, her jewels? I am sure, my lords,
Ye will not hence, till you have shar'd the spoils.
K. DAV. She heard the messenger and heard our talk;
And now that comfort makes her scorn at us.
Another messenger
MESS. Arm, my good lord! O, we are all surpris'd!
COUNT. After the French ambassador, my liege,
And tell him that you dare not ride to York;
Excuse it, that your bonny horse is lame.
K. DAV. She heard that too; intolerable grief! -
Woman, farewell: although I do not stay, -
Exeunt Scots
COUNT. 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 armed power of this land,
-With faceless fear that ever turns his back,
Turn'd 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.
MON. How fares my aunt? we are not Scots;
Why do you shut your gates against your friends?
COUNT. Well may I give a welcome, cousin, to thee,
For thou com'st well to chase my foes from hence.
MON. The king himself is come in person hither;
Dear aunt, descend, and gratulate his highness.
COUNT. How may I entertain his majesty,
To show my duty and his dignity?
Exit, from above
Enter King Edward, Warwick, Artois, with others
K. ED. What, are the stealing foxes fled and gone
Before we could uncouple at their heels?
(I, ii) WAR. They are, my liege; but, with a cheerful cry,
Hot hounds and hardy chase them at the heels.
Enter Countess
K. ED. This is the countess, Warwick, is it not?
WAR. Even she, my liege; whose beauty tyrant's fear,
As a May blossom with pernicious winds,
Hath sullied, wither'd overcast, and done.
K. ED. Hath she been fairer, Warwick, than she is?
WAR. My gracious king, fair is she not at all,
If that herself were by to stain herself,
As I have seen her when she was herself.
; K. ED. What strange enchantment lurk'd in those her eyes
When they excell'd this excellence they have,
That now her dim decline hath power to draw
My subject eyes from piercing majesty
To gaze on her with doting admiration?
COUNT. In duty lower than the ground I kneel
And for my dull knees bow my feeling heart,
To witness my obedience to your highness;
With many millions of a subject's thanks
For this your royal presence, whose approach
Hath driven war and danger from my gate.
K. ED. Lady, stand up: I come to bring thee peace,
However thereby I have purchas'd war.
COUNT. No war to you, my liege; the Scots are gone,
And gallop home toward Scotland with their hate.
[K. ED] . Lest yielding here I pine in shameful love,
Come, we'll pursue the Scots; - Artois, away!
COUNT. A little while, my gracious sovereign, stay
And let the power of a mighty king
Honour 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.
K. ED. Pardon me, countess, I will come not near;
I dream'd to-night of treason, and I fear.
COUNT. Far from this place let ugly treason lie!
K. ED. No farther off than her conspiring eye,
Which shoots infected poison in my heart
Beyond 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,
(I, ii) More than the sun, steals mine own light from me.
Contemplative desire! desire to be
In contemplation, that may master thee!
Warwick, Artois, to horse, and let's away!
COUNT. What might I speak, to make my sovereign stay?
K. ED. What needs a tongue to such a speaking eye
That more persuades than winning oratory?
COUNT. 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.
Our house, my liege, is like a country swain,
Whose habit rude and manners blunt and plain