The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works
Page 100
DAUPHIN
Then charge again! If heaven be not opposed
We cannot lose the day.
KING or FRANCE
On, on, away!
Exeunt
Sc. 16 Enter Lord Audley wounded and rescued by two Squires
SQUIRE
How fares my lord?
AUDLEY
Even as a man may do
That dines at such a bloody feast as this.
SQUIRE
I hope, my lord, that is no mortal scar.
AUDLEY
No matter if it be. The count is cast,
And, 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
Doth end the harvest of his Audley’s war. Exeunt
Sc. 17 Enter Edward Prince of Wales with his prisoners: jean King of France and the Dauphin, and all with ensigns spread. Retreat sounded
PRINCE OF WALES (to the King and then the Dauphin)
Now, Jean in France, and lately Jean of France,
Thy bloody ensigns are my captive colours—
And you, high-vaunting Charles of Normandy,
That once today sent me a horse to fly,
Are now the subjects of my clemency. 5
Fie, lords, is it not a shame that English boys,
Whose early days are yet not worth a beard,
Should in the bosom of your kingdom, thus,
One against twenty, beat you up together?
KING OF FRANCE
Thy fortune, not thy force, hath conquered us.
PRINCE OF WALES
An argument that heaven aids the right.
Enter the Comte d’Artois with Prince Philippe
See, see—Artois doth bring with him along
The late good counsel-giver to my soul.
Welcome, Artois, and welcome Philippe too!
Who now, of you or I, have need to pray?
Now is the proverb verified in you—
‘Too bright a morning breeds a louring day’.
Sound trumpets. Enter Lord Audley ⌈supported by⌉ the two Squires
But say, what grim discouragement comes here?
Alas, what thousand armèd men of France
Have writ that note of death in Audley’s face?
(To Audley) Speak thou, that woo‘st death with thy
careless smile,
And look’st so merrily upon thy grave
As if thou wert enamoured on thine end.
What hungry sword hath so bereaved thy face
And lopped a true friend from my loving soul?
AUDLEY
O, Prince, thy sweet bemoaning speech to me
Is as a mournful knell to one dead sick.
PRINCE OF WALES (embracing him)
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?
If thou wilt drink the blood of captive kings,
Or that it were restorative, command
A health of king’s blood, and I’ll drink to thee.
If honour may dispense for thee with death,
The never-dying honour of this day
Share 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,
My soul should yield this castle of my flesh,
This mangled tribute, with all willingness,
To darkness, consummation, dust and worms.
PRINCE OF WALES
Cheerly, bold man. Thy soul is all too proud
To yield her city for one little breach.
⌈ ⌉
Should be divorced 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.
These two poor squires 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.
PRINCE OF WALES
Renowned Audley, live, and have from me
This gift twice doubled to these squires and thee.
But live or die, what thou hast given away
To these and theirs shall lasting freedom stay.
(To the Squires) Come, gentlemen, I’ll see my friend bestowed
Within 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
Sc. 18 Enter fat one door⌉, as Supplicants, six citizens of Calais in their shirts, barefoot, with halters about their necks. Enter fat another door⌉ King Edward speaking with Queen Philippa. Enter with them the Earl of Derby and soldiers
KING EDWARD
No more, Queen Philip—pacify yourself.
Copland, except he can excuse his fault,
Shall find displeasure written in our looks.
And 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.
ALL SIX SUPPLICANTS ⌈coming forward⌉
Mercy, King Edward! Mercy, gracious lord!
KING EDWARD
Contemptuous villains, call ye now for truce?
Mine ears are stopped against your bootless cries.
Sound drums alarum, draw threat’ning swords!
FIRST SUPPLICANT
Ah, noble prince, take pity on this town,
And hear us, mighty King.
We 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.
KING 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,
Whom, apprehended, law would execute,
Albeit severity lay dead in us.
No, no—ye cannot overreach us thus.
SECOND SUPPLICANT
The sun, dread lord, that in the western fall
Beholds us now low-brought through misery,
Did, in the orient purple of the morn,
Salute our coming forth when we were known
⌉
Or may our portion be with damned fiends.
KING EDWARD
If it be so, then let our covenant stand.
We take possession of the town in peace,
But 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. (To the soldiers) Go, soldiers, see it
done.
QUEEN PHILIPPA A
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,
So 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
When 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,
Philip, prevail: we yield to thy request—
These men shall live to boast of clemency,
And, tyranny, strike terror to thyself.
SECOND SUPPLICANT
Long live your highness! Happy be your reign!
KING EDWARD (to the six Supplicants)
Go, get you hencel Return unto the town.
And if this kindness hath deserved your love,
Learn then to reverence Edward as your king.
Exeunt the six Supplicants
Now might we hear of our affairs abroad,
We would till gloomy winter were o’erspent
Dispose our men in garrison a while.
Enter Copland, with David King of Scotland as his prisoner
But who comes here?
EARL OF DERBY
Copland, my lord, and David King of Scots.
KING EDWARD
Is this the proud, presumptuous squire of the north
That would not yield his prisoner to my Queen?
COPLAND
I am, my liege, a northern squire 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,
But 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,
Is come to France, and with a lowly mind
Doth vail the bonnet of his victory.
Receive, dread lord, the custom of my freight,
The wealthy tribute of my labouring hands,
Which should long since have been surrendered up,
Had but your gracious self been there in place.
QUEEN PHILIPPA
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,
But to his person I will bend my knee.
KING EDWARD (to the Queen)
I pray thee, Philip, 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 fame?
All rivers have recourse unto the sea,
And Copland’s faith, relation to his king.
(To Copland) Kneel therefore down.
He knights him
Now rise, King Edward’s knight.
And to maintain thy state, I freely give 96
Five hundred marks a year to thee and thine.
Enter the Earl of Salisbury, with a coronet
Welcome, Lord Salisbury! What news from Bretagne?
EARL OF SALISBURY
This, mighty King: the country we have won,
And Charles de Montfort, regent of that place,
Presents your highness with this coronet,
Protesting true allegiance to your grace.
KING EDWARD
We thank thee for thy service, valiant Earl.
Challenge our favour, for we owe it thee.
EARL OF SALISBURY
But now, my lord, as this is joyful news,
So must my voice be tragical again,
And 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?
EARL OF SALISBURY
He was, my lord, and as my worthless self,
With forty other serviceable knights,
Under 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,
Commanded straight to cut off all our heads.
And surely we had died but that the Duke,
More full of honour than his angry sire,
Procured our quick deliverance from thence.
But ere we went, ‘Salute your King,’ quoth he,
‘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.
Our 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.
For there, my lord, O 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.
Here stood a battle of ten thousand horse,
There twice as many pikes in quadrant wise,
Here crossbows and there deadly wounding darts,
And in the midst, like to a slender point
Within the compass of the horizon,
As ’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.
Anon, 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’ clangour in the air.
The battles join, and when we could no more
Discern 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
The most untimely tale of Edward’s fall.
QUEEN PHILIPPA
Ah, me! Is this my welcome into France?
Is this the comfort that I looked to have
When I should meet with my beloved son?
Sweet Ned, I would thy mother, in the sea,
Had been prevented of this mortal grief.
KING EDWARD
Content thee, Philip. ’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!
He 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;
The 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-f
ifty towers shall burning blaze
While we bewail our valiant son’s decease!
Flourish 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,
Triumphant rideth like a Roman peer,
And, lowly, at his stirrup, comes afoot
King Jean of France together with his son
In captive bonds, whose diadem he brings
To crown thee with, and to proclaim thee king.
KING EDWARD
Away with mourning, Philip! Wipe thine eyes!
Sound trumpets! Welcome in Plantagenet!
Enter Edward Prince of Wales with Jean King of France and Prince Philippe as his prisoners. Also enter Lord Audley ⌈in a litter borne by the two Squires⌉ and the Comte d’Artois
As things long lost when they are found again,
So doth my son rejoice his father’s heart,
For whom, even now, my soul was much perplexed.
QUEEN PHILIPPA
Be this a token to express my joy—
She kisses the Prince of Wales
For inward passions will not let me speak.
PRINCE OF WALES (to King Edward)
My gracious father, here receive thy gift,
This wreath of conquest and reward of war,
Got with as mickle peril of our lives
As e’er was thing of price before this day.
Install your highness in your proper right,
And herewithal I render to your hands
These prisoners, chief occasion of our strife.
KING EDWARD (to the King of France)
So, Jean 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,
How 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 OF FRANCE
Edward, recount not things irrevocable.
Tell me what ransom thou requir’st to have.
KING EDWARD
Thy ransom, Jean, hereafter shall be known.
But first to England thou must cross the seas
To see what entertainment it affords.
Howe’er it falls, it cannot be so bad