Shakespeare's Kings (131 page)

Made forth, as when the empty eagle flies

To satisfy his hungry griping maw.

k. john
. There's for thy news. Return unto thy bark;

And, 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 dispers'd

To several places, lest they chance to land:

First, 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;

Here in the middle coast, betwixt you both,

Philip, my youngest boy, and I will lodge.

So, lords, be gone, and look unto your charge;

You stand for France, an empire fair and large.-

Now tell me, Philip, what is thy conceit,

Touching the challenge that the English make?

phil
. I say, my lord, claim Edward what he can,

(III, i) 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:

But, were it not, yet, ere he should prevail,

I'll make a conduit of my dearest blood

Or chase those straggling upstarts home again.

k. john
. Well said, young Philip!

Call for bread and wine,

That we may cheer our stomachs with repast,

To 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;

That with the sulphur
Battle
s of your rage

The English fleet may be dispers'd and sunk!
Shot

phil
. O, father, how this echoing cannon-shot,

Like sweet harmony, disgests my cates!

k. john
. Now, boy, thou hear'st what thund'ring terror 'tis,

To 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

To show the rancour of their high-swoln hearts.

Retreat

Retreat is sounded; one side hath the worse:

O, if it be the French! - Sweet Fortune, turn;

And, in thy turning, change the forward winds,

That, with advantage of a favouring sky,

Our men may vanquish and the other fly!

Enter Mariner

My heart misgives: - say, mirror of pale death,

To whom belongs the honour of this day?

Relate, I pray thee, if thy breath will serve,

The sad discourse of this discomfiture.

mar
. I will, my lord.

My gracious sovereign, France hath ta'en the foil,

And boasting Edward triumphs with success.

These iron-hearted navies,

When last I was reporter to your grace,

Both full of angry spleen, of hope and fear,

Hasting to meet each other in the face,

(III, iv) Wounding her bosom with her crooked beak

That so her nest of young ones may be fed

With drops of blood that issue from her heart;

The motto, 'Sic
et vos'
'And so should you.'

Exeunt

act
iv scene
i

Brittany. Camp of the English Enter Lord

Mountford with a coronet in his hand; with him the

Earl of Salisbury.

mount
. My Lord of Salisbury, since by your aid

Mine enemy Sir Charles of Blois is slain,

And I again am quiedy possess'd

In Britain's dukedom, know that I resolve,

For this kind furth'rance of your king and you,

To swear allegiance to his majesty:

In sign wherof, receive this coronet.

Bear it unto him, and withal mine oath,

Never to be but Edward's faithful friend.

sal
. I take it, Mountford: thus, I hope, ere long

The whole dominions of the realm of France

Will be surrender'd to his conquering hand.

Exit Mountford

Now, if I knew but safely how to pass,

I would at Calice gladly meet his grace,

Whither I am by letters certified

That he intends to have his host remov'd.

It shall be so; this policy will serve:

-Ho, who's within? Bring Villiers to me. -

Enter Villiers

Villiers, thou know'st, thou art my prisoner,

And that I might for ransom, if I would,

Require of thee a hundred thousand franks,

Or else retain and keep thee captive still:

But so it is, that for a smaller charge

Thou may'st be quit, an if thou wilt thyself;

And this it is, procure me but a passport

Of Charles the Duke of Normandy, that I

Without restraint may have recourse to Calice

Through all the countries where he hath to do,

(Which thou may'st easily obtain, I think,

(IV, i) By reason I have often heard thee say,

He and thou were students once together)

And then thou shalt be set at liberty.

How say'st thou? wilt thou undertake to do it?

vil
. I will, my lord; but I must speak with him.

sal
. 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.

vil. To
that condition I agree, my lord,

And will unfeignedly perform the same.

Exit

sal
. Farewell, Villiers. -

This once I mean to try a Frenchman's faith.

Exit

scene
II

Picardy. The English Camp before Calais.

Enter King Edward and Derby, with Soldiers.

k. ed
. Since they refuse our proffer'd league, my lord,

And will not ope their gates and let us in,

We will intrench ourselves on every side,

That neither victuals nor supply of men

May come to succour this accursed town;

Famine shall combat where our swords are stopp'd.

der
. The promis'd aid that made them stand aloof

Is now retir'd and gone another way;

It will repent them of their stubborn will.

Enter six poor Frenchmen

But what are these poor ragged slaves, my lord?

k. ed
. Ask what they are; it seems, they come from Calice.

der
. You wretched patterns of despair and woe,

What are you? living men, or gliding ghosts,

Crept from your graves to walk upon the earth?

first fr. No
ghosts, my lord, but men that breathe a life

Far worse than is the quiet sleep of death:

We are distressed poor inhabitants

That long have been diseased, sick and lame;

And now, because we are not fit to serve,

The captain of the town hath thrust us forth

(III, i) At last conjoin'd, and by their admiral

Our admiral encounter'd many shot.

By 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.

Then 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 serv'd for friends to bid farewell;

And if it had, the hideous noise was such,

As each to other seemed deaf and dumb.

Purple the sea; whose channel fill'd as fast

With streaming gore that from the maimed fell

As did her gushing moisture break into

The crannied cleftures of the through-shot planks.

Here flew a head, dissever'd from the trunk;

There mangled arms and legs were toss'd 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

And 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 valour and of force,

Of resolution and of cowardice,

We lively pictur'd; how the one for fame,

The other by compulsion laid about.

Much did the Nonpareille, that brave ship;

So did the Black-snake of Bullen, than which

A bonnier vessel never yet spread sail:

But all in vain; both sun, the wind and
title

Revolted unto our foeman'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.

k. 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, gende

Philip, let us hence depart;

This soldier's words have pierc'd thy father's heart.

(HI, ii)

scene
ii

Picardy. Fields near Cressy.

Enter two Frenchmen; a woman and two little

children meet them, and other citizens.

I
[fr
.] 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 And carry bag and baggage too?

[i
CiT.]
Quarter-day? ay, and quartering day, I fear:

Have ye not heard the news that flies abroad?

i
[
fr
.]
What news?

[2
cit
.] How the French navy is destroy'd at sea

And that the English army is arriv'd.

1
[fr
.] What then?

[1
cit
.] What then, quoth you? why, is't not time to fly,

When envy and destruction is so nigh?

1
[fr
.] Content thee, man; they are far enough from hence;