Shakespeare's Kings (137 page)

[Enter Artois, with Philip]
See, see,

Artois doth bring with him along

The late good-counsel-giver to my soul!
–

Welcome, Artois, and welcome,

Philip, 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 Audley

But, say, what grim discouragement comes here!

Alas, what thousand armed men of France

Have writ that note of death in Audley's face?

-Speak, thou that woo'st death with thy careless smile

And look'st so merrily upon thy grave

As if thou wert enamour'd on thine end,

What hungry sword hath so bereav'd thy face

And lopp'd a true friend from my loving soul?

aud
. O prince, thy sweet bemoaning speech to me

Is as a mournful knell to one dead-sick.

pr. ed
. 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

vii) Share wholly, Audley, to thyself, and live.

aud
. Victorious prince, — that thou art so, behold

A Caesar's fame in king's 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.

pr. ed
. 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.

aud
. I take thy gift, to pay the debts I owe.

These two poor squires redeem'd 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.

pr. ed
. 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.

-Come, gentlemen, I'll see my friend bestow'd

Within an easy Utter; then we'll march

Proudly toward Calice with triumphant pace

Unto my royal father, and there bring

The tribute of my wars, fair France's king.

act
v scene
i

Picardy. The English Camp before Calais.

Enter King Edward, Queen Philippa, Derby, soldiers.

k. ed
. No more, Queen Philippe, 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.

(V, i)
Enter six citizens in their shirts, bare foot, with halters

about their necks.

cit
. Mercy, King Edward! mercy, gracious lord!

k. ed
. Contemptuous villains! call ye now for truce?

Mine ears are stopp'd against your boodess cries:

-Sound, drums' alarum; draw, threat'ning swords!

1
cit
. 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 expir'd,

And we are come with willingness to bear

What torturing death or punishment you please,

So that the trembling multitude be sav'd.

k. ed
. 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 robber on the sea,

Whom, apprehended, law would execute,

Albeit severity lay dead in us:

No, no, ye cannot overreach us thus.

2
cit
. 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.

k. ed
. 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 dragg'd about these walls

And after feel the stroke of quartering steel:

This is your doom; - go, soldiers, see it done.

queen
. 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 spoil'd

Is held in reputation none of ours.

k. ed
. Although experience teach us this is true,

That peaceful quietness brings most delight

When most of all abuses are controll'd,

(V, i)
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.

cit
. Long live your highness! happy be your reign!

k. ed
. Go, get you hence, return unto the town;

And if this kindness hath deserv'd your love,

Learn then to reverence Edward as your king. -

Exeunt

Now, might we hear of our affairs abroad,

We would, till gloomy winter were o'er-spent,

Dispose our men in garrison a while. But who comes here?

Enter Copland and King David

der
. Copland, my lord, and David King of Scots.

k. ed
. Is this the proud presumptious squire o' the north

That would not yield his prisoner to my queen?

cop
. I am, my liege, a northern squire, indeed,

But neither proud not insolent, I trust.

k. ed
. What moved thee then to be so obstinate

To contradict our royal queen's desire?

cop. No
wilful disobedience, mighty lord,

But my desert and public law of 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 fraught,

The wealthy tribute of my labouring hands;

Which should long since have been surrender'd up,

Had but your gracious self been there in place.

queen
. But, Copland, thou didst scorn the king's command,

Neglecting our commission in his name.

cop
. 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.

k. ed
. 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

(V, i)
And lose the glory that ensues the same?

All rivers have recourse unto the sea;

And Copland's faith, relation to his king.

-Kneel therefore down; now rise, King Edward's knight:

And, to maintain thy state, I freely give

Five hundred marks a year to thee and thine. -

Enter Salisbury
Welcome,

Lord Salisbury: what news from Britain?

sal
. This, mighty king: the country we have won;

And John de Mountford, regent of that place,

Presents your highness with this coronet,

Protesting true allegiance to your grace.

k.
ed
. We thank thee for thy service, valiant earl;

Challenge our favour, for we owe it thee.

sal
. But now, my lord, as this is joyful news,

So must my voice be tragical again

And I must sing of doleful accidents.

k.
ed
. What, have our men the overthrow at Poitiers?

Or is our son beset with too much odds?

sal
. 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 distress'd,

A troop of lances met us on the way,

Surpris'd, 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,

Procur'd our quick deliverance from thence;

But, ere we went, 'Salute your king,' quoth he,

Bid him provide a funeral for his son,

To-day 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 pased, not daring to reply;

Our hearts were dead, our looks diffus'd and wan.

Wand'ring, at last we climb'd 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.

(V, i)
The French had cast their trenches like a ring;

And every barricado's open front

Was thick emboss'd with brazen ordinance.

Here stood a battle often thousand horse;

There twice as many pikes, in quadrant-wise:

Here cross-bows and deadly-wounding darts:

And in the midst, like to a slender point

Within the compass of the horizon,

-As't were a rising bubble in the sea,

A hazel-wand amidst a wood of pines,

Or as a bear fast chain'd 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
Battle
s join: and, when we could no more

Discern the difference 'twixt the friend and foe,

(So intricate the dark confusion was)

Away we turn'd 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.