Shakespeare's Kings (136 page)

k. john
. But now the pompous sun, in all his pride,

Look'd through his golden coach upon the world,

And on a sudden, hath he hid himself;

That now the under earth is as a grave,

Dark, deadly, silent, and uncomfortable.

A clamour of ravens

Hark! what a deadly outcry do I hear!
char
. Here comes my brother Philip.
k. john.
All dismayed: -

Enter Philip

What fearful words are those thy looks presage?

phil
. A flight, a flight!

k. john
. Coward, what flight? thou liest, there needs no flight.

phil
. A flight!

k. john
. Awake thy craven powers, and tell on

The substance of that very fear indeed,

Which is so gha
stly
printed on thy face:

What is the matter?
phil.
A flight of ugly ravens

Do croak and hover o'er our soldiers' heads,

And keep in triangles and corner'd squares

Right as our forces are em
Battle
d;

With their approach there came this sudden fog

Which now hath hid the airy floor of heaven

And made at noon a night unnatural

(IV, v) Upon the quaking and dismayed world:

In brief, our soldiers have let fall their arms

And stand like metamorphos'd images,

Bloodless and pale, one gazing on another.

k. 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;

Tell 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,

Although not dead, the ravenous birds

Sit watching the departure of his life;

Even so these ravens, for the carcases

Of those poor English that are mark'd to die,

Hover about, and, if they cry to us,

'Tis but for meat that we must kill for them.

Away, and comfort up my soldiers,

And sound the trumpets; and at once despatch

This
little
business of a silly fraud.

Exit Philip

Another noise. Salisbury brought in by a French Captain

cap
. Behold, my liege, this knight, and forty more, -

Of whom the better part are slain and fled, -

With all endeavour sought to break our ranks,

And make their way to the encompass'd prince;

Dispose of him as please your majesty.

k. john
. Go, and the next bough, soldier, that thou seest,

Disgrace it with his body prese
ntly
:

For I do hold a tree in France too good

To be the gallows of an English thief.

sal
. My Lord of Normandy, I have your pass

And warrant for my safety through this land.

char
. Villiers procur'd it for thee, did he not?

sal
. He did.

char
. And it is current, thou shalt freely pass.

k. john
. Ay, freely to the gallows to be hang'd,

Without denial or impediment: -

Away with him.

char
. I hope, your highness will not so disgrace me

And dash the virtue of my seal-at-arms:

He hath my never-broken name to show,

(IV, v) Character'd with this princely hand of mind;

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.

k.
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 thyself?

Thy word, nor no man's, may exceed his power;

Nor 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 charged with the breach of faith.

-Go, hang him; for thy licence lies in me:

And my constraint stands the excuse for thee.

char
. Wh
at, 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

But with a guardian I shall be controll'd,

To say, I may not give my things away?

Upon my soul, had Edward Prince of Wales

Engag'd his word, writ down his noble hand,

For all your knights to pass his father's land,

The royal king, to grace his warlike son,

Would not alone safe-conduct give to them,

But with all bounty feasted them and theirs.

k.
john
. Dwell'st thou on precedents?

Then be it so. -Say, Englishman, of what degree thou art.

sal
. An earl in England though a prisoner here;

And those that know me call me Salisbury.

k.
john
. Then, Salisbury, say whither thou art bound.

sal.
T
o
Calice, where my liege, King Edward, is.

k.
john
. To Calice, Salisbury? then to

Calice pack; And bid the king prepare a noble grave

To put his princely son, black Edward, in.

And as thou travell'st westward from this place,

Some two leagues hence there is a lofty hill,

Whose top seems topless, for the embracing sky

Doth 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,

(IV, v) Hoop'd with a band of iron round about.

After which sight to Calice spur amain,

And say, the prince was smother'd and not slain:

And tell the king, this is not all his ill,

For I will greet him ere he thinks I will.

Away, begone; the smoke but of our shot

Will choke our foes, though bullets hit them not.

[Exeunt]

scene
vi

The Same. A Part of the Field of Battle. Alarum.

Enter Prince Edward and Artois.
art.

How
fares your grace? are you not shot, my lord?

pr. ed
. No, dear Artois; but chok'd with dust and smoke

And stepp'd aside for breath and fresher air.

art
. Breathe then, and to't 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: -

O, for more arrows! Lord! that's our want.

pr. ed
. 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 out-scold our adversaries?

Up, up, Artois! the ground itself is arm'd

[With] fire-containing flint; command our bows

To hurl away their pretty-colour'd yew,

And to't with stones: away, Artois, away;

My soul doth prophesy we win the day.

Exeunt

Alarum. Enter King John

k.
john
. Our multitudes are in themselves confounded,

Dismayed and distraught; swift-starting fear

Hath buzz'd a cold dismay through all our army,

And every petty disadvantage prompts

The fear-possessed 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

With strong surprise of weak and yielding fear.

(IV, vi)
Enter Charles

char
. 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,

Our trumpets sound dishonour and retire;

The spirit of fear, that feareth nought but death,

Cowardly works confusion on itself.

Enter Philip

phil
. Pluck out your eyes and see not this day's shame!

An arm hath beat an army; one poor David

Hath with a stone foil'd twenty stout Goliaths:

Some twenty naked starvelings with small flints

Have driven back a puissant host of men,

Array'd and fenc'd in all accomplements.

k. john
. Mordieu, they quoit at us and kill us up;

No less than forty thousand wicked elders

Have forty lean slaves this day ston'd to death.

char
. O, that I were some other countryman!

This day hath set derision on the French,

And all the world will blurt and scorn at us.

k. john
. What, is there no hope left?

phil
. No hope, but death, to bury up our shame.

k. john
. Make up once more with me; the twentieth part

Of those that live are men enough to quail

The feeble handful on the adverse part.

char
. Then charge again: if Heaven be not oppos'd,

We cannot lose the day.
k. john.
On, away.

[Exeunt]

Enter Audley, wounded, and rescued by two squires
first esq
. How fares my lord?
aud.
Even as a man may do,

That dines at such a bloody feast as this.

second esq
. I hope, my lord, that is no mortal scar.

aud
. 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.

(IV, vii)

SCENE
vii

The Same. The English Camp. Enter Prince

Edward, King John, Charles, and all, with ensigns spread.

pr. ed
. Now, John in France, and lately John of France,

Thy bloody ensigns are my captive colours;

And you, high-vaunting Charles of Normandy,

That once to-day sent me a horse to fly,

Are now the subjects of my clemency.

Fie, lords! is't 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?

k. john
. Thy fortune, not thy force, hath conquer'd us.

pr. ed
. An argument that Heaven aids the right. -