ACT V, SCENE 1
Picardy. The English Camp before Calais.
Enter King Edward,
Queen Phillip, Derby, officers, soldiers, etc.
||No more, Queen
Phillip, pacify your self;
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.
to arms. Enter six Citizens in their Shirts, bare foot, with halters about
Edward! mercy, gracious Lord!
villains! call ye now for truce?
Mine ears are stopped against your bootless cries!
Draw, threatening swords!
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.
Well, I do confess as much:
But I do 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.
||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.
||If it be so,
then let our covenant stand:
We take possession of the town in peace,
But, for your selves, 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; -- go, soldiers, see it done.
||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.
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 thy self.
||Long live your
highness! happy be your reign!
||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.--
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?
and King David.]
Lord, and David, King of Scots.
||Is this the
proud presumptuous squire o' the North,
That would not yield his prisoner to my queen?
||I am, my liege,
a Northern Esquire indeed,
But neither proud nor insolent, I trust.
||What moved thee,
then, to be so obstinate
To contradict our royal queen's desire?
disobedience, mighty Lord,
But my desert and public law at arms:
I took the king my self in single fight,
And, like a soldiers, 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 vale the bonnet of his victory:
Receive, dread Lord, the custom of my fraught,
The wealthy tribute of my laboring hands,
Which should long since have been surrendered up,
Had but your gracious self been there in place.
thou didst scorn the king's command,
Neglecting our commission in his name.
||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.
||I pray thee,
Phillip, 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 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.
Welcome, Lord Salisbury: what news from Britain?
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.
||We thank thee
for thy service, valiant earl;
Challenge our favour, for we owe it thee.
||But now, my
Lord, as this is joyful news,
So must my voice be tragical again,
And I must sing of doleful accidents.
||What, have our
men the overthrow at Poitiers?
Or is our son beset with too much odds?
||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 honor 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:
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 past, 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, oh, 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 emboss'd with brazen ordinance;
Here stood a battle of ten 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 twere a rising bubble in the sea,
A Hasle 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' clangor 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 watery 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.
||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!
Phillip; 'tis not tears will serve
To call him back, if he be taken hence:
Comfort thy self, 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 his 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 fifty towers shall burning blaze,
While we bewail our valiant son's decease.
Trumpets within. Enter an herald.]
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 John of France, together with his son,
In captive bonds; whose diadem he brings
To crown thee with, and to proclaim thee king.
mourning, Philip, wipe thine eyes;--
Sound, Trumpets, welcome in Plantagenet!
[Enter Prince Edward, king John, Phillip, Audley, 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.
||Be this a token
to express my joy,
For inward passion will not let me speak.
father, here receive the gift.
[Presenting him with King John's crown.]
This wreath of conquest and reward of war,
Got with as mickle peril of our lives,
As ere was thing of price before this day;
Install your highness in your proper right:
And, herewithall, I render to your hands
These prisoners, chief occasion of our strife.
||So, John of
France, I see you keep your word:
You promis'd to be sooner with ourself
Than we did think for, and 'tis so in deed:
But, had you done at first as now you do,
How many civil towns had stood untouch'd,
That now are turned to ragged heaps of stones?
How many people's lives might'st thou have sav'd,
That are untimely sunk into their graves!
not things irrevocable;
Tell me what ransom thou requir'st to have.
John, 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,
As ours hath been since we arriv'd in France.
||Accursed man! of
this I was foretold,
But did misconster what the prophet told.
this petition Edward makes
whose grace hath been his strongest shield,
That, as thy pleasure chose me for the man
To be the instrument to shew thy power,
So thou wilt grant that many princes more,
Bred and brought up within that little Isle,
May still be famous for like victories!
And, for my part, the bloody scars I bear,
And weary nights that I have watch'd in field,
The dangerous conflicts I have often had,
The fearful menaces were proffered me,
The heat and cold and what else might displease:
I wish were now redoubled twenty fold,
So that hereafter ages, when they read
The painful traffic of my tender youth,
Might thereby be inflamed with such resolve,
As not the territories of France alone,
But likewise Spain, Turkey, and what countries else
That justly would provoke fair England's ire,
Might, at their presence, tremble and retire.
Lords, we do proclaim a rest,
An intercession of our painful arms:
Sheath up your swords, refresh your weary limbs,
Peruse your spoils; and, after we have breathed
A day or two within this haven-town,
God willing, then for England we'll be shipp'd;
Where, in a happy hour, I trust, we shall
Arrive, three kings, two princes, and a queen.
To see other scenes in
ACT III, SCENE 4 The Same./ACT III, SCENE 5 The Same.
ACT I, SCENE 1 London. A Room of State in the Palace.
ACT IV, SCENE 1 Bretagne. Camp of the English/ACT IV,
SCENE 2 Picardy. The English Camp before Calais.
ACT I, Scene
2 Roxborough. Before the Castle.
ACT IV, SCENE 3 Poitou. Fields near Poitiers. The
French camp; Tent of the Duke of Normandy.
ACT II, SCENE 1 The Same. Gardens of the Castle.
ACT IV, SCENE 4 The same. The English Camp.
ACT II, SCENE2 The Same. A Room in the Castle.
ACT IV, SCENE 5 The same. The French Camp.
ACT III, SCENE1 Flanders. The French Camp.
ACT IV, SCENE 6 The same. A Part of the Field
of Battle./ACT IV, SCENE 7 The same. Another Part of the Field of
ACT III, SCENE 2 Picardy. Fields near Cressy.
ACT IV, SCENE 8 The same. Another Part of the
Field of Battle. /ACT IV, SCENE 9 The same. The English Camp.
ACT III, SCENE 3 The same. Drums.
ACT V, SCENE 1 Picardy. The
English Camp before Calais.
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