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| KING JOHN | Oh, Lorrain, say, what mean
our men to fly? Our number is far greater than our foes. |
| LORRAIN | The garrison of Genoaes, my
Lord, That came from Paris weary with their march, Grudging to be so suddenly imployd, No sooner in the forefront took their place, But, straight retiring, so dismayed the rest, As likewise they betook themselves to flight, In which, for haste to make a safe escape, More in the clustering throng are pressed to death, Than by the enemy, a thousand fold. |
| KING JOHN |
O hapless fortune! Let us
yet assay, If we can counsel some of them to stay. |
| [Exeunt.] |
ACT III, SCENE 5 The Same.
Enter King Edward and Audley.
| KING EDWARD | Lord Audley, whiles our son
is in the chase, With draw our powers unto this little hill, And here a season let us breath our selves. |
| AUDLEY | I will, my Lord. |
| [Exit. Sound Retreat.] | |
| KING EDWARD |
Just dooming heaven, whose
secret providence To our gross judgement is inscrutable, How are we bound to praise thy wondrous works, That hast this day given way unto the right, And made the wicked stumble at them selves! |
| [Enter Artois.] | |
| ARTOIS | Rescue, king Edward! rescue for thy son! |
| KING EDWARD | Rescue, Artois? what, is he
prisoner, Or by violence fell beside his horse? |
| ARTOIS |
Neither, my Lord: but
narrowly beset With turning Frenchmen, whom he did pursue, As tis impossible that he should scape, Except your highness presently descend. |
| KING EDWARD |
Tut, let him fight; we gave
him arms to day, And he is laboring for a knighthood, man. |
| [Enter Derby.] | |
| DARBY |
The Prince, my Lord, the
Prince! oh, succour him! He's close incompast with a world of odds! |
| KING EDWARD |
Then will he win a world of
honor too, If he by valour can redeem him thence; If not, what remedy? we have more sons Than one, to comfort our declining age. [Enter Audley.] Renowned Edward, give me leave, I pray, To lead my soldiers where I may relieve Your Grace's son, in danger to be slain. The snares of French, like Emmets on a bank, Muster about him; whilest he, Lion like, Intangled in the net of their assaults, Franticly wrends, and bites the woven toil; But all in vain, he cannot free him self. |
| KING EDWARD |
Audley, content; I will not
have a man, On pain of death, sent forth to succour him: This is the day, ordained by destiny, To season his courage with those grievous thoughts, That, if he breaketh out, Nestor's years on earth Will make him savor still of this exploit. |
| DARBY | Ah, but he shall not live to see those days. |
| KING EDWARD | Why, then his Epitaph is lasting praise. |
| AUDLEY |
Yet, good my Lord, tis too
much willfulness, To let his blood be spilt, that may be saved. |
| KING EDWARD |
Exclaim no more; for none of
you can tell Whether a borrowed aid will serve, or no; Perhaps he is already slain or ta'en. And dare a Falcon when she's in her flight, And ever after she'll be haggard like: Let Edward be delivered by our hands, And still, in danger, he'll expect the like; But if himself himself redeem from thence, He will have vanquished cheerful death and fear, And ever after dread their force no more Than if they were but babes or Captive slaves. |
| AUDLEY | O cruel Father! Farewell, Edward, then! |
| DARBY | Farewell, sweet Prince, the hope of chivalry! |
| ARTOIS | O, would my life might ransom him from death! |
| KING EDWARD |
But soft, me thinks I hear [Retreat sounded.] The dismal charge of Trumpets' loud retreat. All are not slain, I hope, that went with him; Some will return with tidings, good or bad. |
| [Enter Prince Edward in triumph, bearing in his hands his chivered Lance; his sword, and battered armour, borne before him, and the body of the King of Bohemia, wrapped in the Colours. The Lords run and imbrace him.] | |
| AUDLEY | O joyful sight! victorious Edward lives! |
| DERBY | Welcome, brave Prince! |
| KING EDWARD | Welcome, Plantagenet! |
| PRINCE
EDWARD |
[Kneels and kisses his
father's hand.] First having done my duty as beseem'd, Lords, I regreet you all with hearty thanks. And now, behold, after my winter's toil, My painful voyage on the boisterous sea Of wars devouring gulfs and steely rocks, I bring my fraught unto the wished port, My Summer's hope, my travels' sweet reward: And here, with humble duty, I present This sacrifice, this first fruit of my sword, Cropped and cut down even at the gate of death, The king of Boheme, father, whom I slew; Whose thousands had entrenched me round about, And lay as thick upon my battered crest, As on an Anvil, with their ponderous glaves: Yet marble courage still did underprop And when my weary arms, with often blows, Like the continual laboring Wood-man's Axe That is enjoined to fell a load of Oaks, Began to faulter, straight I would record My gifts you gave me, and my zealous vow, And then new courage made me fresh again, That, in despite, I carved my passage forth, And put the multitude to speedy flight. Lo, thus hath Edward's hand filled your request, And done, I hope, the duty of a Knight. |
| KING EDWARD |
Aye, well thou hast deserved
a knighthood, Ned! And, therefore, with thy sword, yet reaking warm [His Sword borne by a Soldier.] With blood of those that fought to be thy bane. Arise, Prince Edward, trusty knight at arms: This day thou hast confounded me with joy, And proud thy self fit heir unto a king. |
| PRINCE
EDWARD |
Here is a note, my gracious
Lord, of those That in this conflict of our foes were slain: Eleven Princes of esteem, Four score Barons, A hundred and twenty knights, and thirty thousand Common soldiers; and, of our men, a thousand. |
| KING EDWARD |
Our God be praised! Now,
John of France, I hope, Thou knowest King Edward for no wantoness, No love sick cockney, nor his soldiers jades. But which way is the fearful king escaped? |
| PRINCE EDWARD | Towards Poitiers, noble father, and his sons. |
| KING EDWARD |
Ned, thou and Audley shall
pursue them still; My self and Derby will to Calice straight, And there be begirt that Haven town with siege. Now lies it on an upshot; therefore strike, And wistly follow, whiles the game's on foot. What Picture's this? [Pointing to the colours.] |
| PRINCE
EDWARD |
A Pelican, my Lord, 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.] |
To see other scenes in the show:
| Full Play Text |
ACT III, SCENE 4 The Same./ACT III, SCENE 5 The Same. |
|
ACT IV, SCENE 3 Poitou. Fields near Poitiers. The French camp; Tent of the Duke of Normandy. |
|
| ACT V, SCENE 1 Picardy. The English Camp before Calais. |
To view other Edward III sections:
Main Play Page Play Text Scene by Scene Synopsis Character Directory Commentary
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