University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Scene, An extensive Plain, with the distant View of a Town: On one Side a Camp on a Level, on the other, another on a rising Ground.
Enter Prince, Warwick, Chandos, and Attendants. Their Swords drawn.
PRINCE.
Haste to my Lord of Oxford, and request
He ply his Archers with redoubled Vigour:
[An Attendant bows, and goes out.
I see already they've confus'd the Foe;
Their Ranks are broken, and they seem to doubt
If they should stand or fly!

Chan.
Then now's the Time
To press 'em with the Weight of all our Force,
For Frenchmen, if they're once dismay'd, are lost.

War.
Excess of Fury marks the Battle yonder!
Lord Salisbury there sustains a heavy Charge.

Prince.
Warwick, away and reinforce his Party,
Or Numbers may o'erbear him. Fly this Instant.
[Exit Warwick.
O for an Arm of Iron, but to answer
The mighty Ardor that inflames my Soul!

[Exeunt.
Enter Arnold bloody.
Arn.
Yet more of Gallic Blood, I must have more,
To wash my Stains of Infamy away.
What are the Multitudes o'erthrown already?
Greater must down to gratify my Rage,
And in my Country's Vengeance crown my own.
Hah! what! retreating!—Cowards—Follow me—

[He joins an English Party who were giving way, and they beat the French off.
Scene changes to another Part of the Field.
Enter King John, Tourain, Athens, and Attendants.
King.
By Heav'n a Panick seizes all my Troops!—
Inform me, Athens, what's the Cause of this?

Ath.
Some Parties, that the Prince of Wales detach'd
Round yonder Mountain, have attack'd our Rear;
And the Division which the Dauphin led,
Dispersing in Confusion; they have pierc'd
With Fury to the Centre of our Host!

King.
Fly, Athens, to my Son, with my Command
That he collect again his scatter'd Men,
And lead them to our Succour. Shameful Sight!
[Ex. Ath.
That such a Handful should confound us thus.

Enter Archbishop of Sens with a drawn Sword.
Sens.
Confusion seize!—but there's no need to wish it,
Too much it rages in our Host already.
I got this Weapon from a feather'd Wretch,
Who cast it down and skipt like any Deer!—
I wish the Villain had it in his Heart.
Howe'er, I took the keen Incumbrance up,
And us'd it better than his Master could;
For with this Arm, unpractis'd in the Office,
I clove a brawny Briton to the Chine!

Tour.
Heav'ns, how we're prest!—No Party but gives way!

King.
Perdition seize the Cowards. Come, my Boy,
We'll do our Duty tho' they all desert us.

[Exeunt.
Scene changes.
Enter Arnold.
Arn.
My Arm begins to weary with the Fight;
Death! I have cram'd thy rav'nous Jaws with Offal;
Now, turn my Friend, and give me timely Rescue.

Enter Ribemont.
Rib.
Thou double Traitor! must I stain my Sword
With the foul Streams that circle in thy Veins,
Who art so base, so branded—Infamous!
By Heav'n it almost is a Guilt to fight thee.

Arn.
Here I can answer, for my Cause is good:
It is my Country's! And thou, haughty Lord,
Think not thou e'er again shalt awe my Soul,
Or, unchastis'd, reproach me with a Crime
I loath,—and here am come to expiate.
The Earth Iv'e crimson'd with thy Country's Blood:
And if the Pow'rs, to what is shed already,
Will add but Ribemont's—I ask no more:
The Foe I next may meet to mine is welcome.

Rib.
Can aught in Valour purge thy Æthiop Soul,
Expunge thy Blots, and rank thee with the Brave?
Dar'st thou assert the Cause thou hast betray'd?
Or hope a second Guilt atones the first?
No! the joint Vengeance of wrong'd France and England
I send in this— [Arnold falls.]
There's something of thy Due;
To Infamy, and Hell, I leave the rest.

[Exit.
Arn.
Death I have caught—his Shaft is in my Heart—
It tugs with Nature.—When shall I get free—

Enter Prince, Chandos, and Attendants.
Prince.
Slaughter hath wanton'd here! What Stream of Blood!
What Heaps of mangled Bodies strew the Ground!
Death has had able Ministers at work,
A pompous Tribute they have paid indeed!—
Arnold!—Hast thou done this!—

Arn.
Offended Prince,
You find my flutt'ring Soul upon the Wing—
All a poor desp'rate and despairing Wretch
Could do, this Arm has wrought—

Prince.
Thrice have I mark'd
Thy Valour wonderful!

Arn.
All worthless quite:
That I could pay an hundred thousand Lives
In Gratitude to you and Love for England,
But feeble Nature fail'd my better Wish,
So here I render up a lothsome Life—

Prince.
Talk not of dying:—Live, and still be mine.

Arn.
Too gen'rous Prince!—Could your benignant Heart
Forgive and cherish one who was so vile?—

Prince.
As Heav'n may pardon me, thy Crime's forgot.

Arn.
Then I am happy. Hear it, sacred Pow'rs!
And give him Glory great, as is his Goodness.
I go—Methinks the gloomy Way before me
Is stript of half its Horrors. Friendly Death,
Receive a parting—pity'd—pardon'd—Oh!—

[Dies.
Chan.
He dies!—Is gone.

Prince.
Proving, my noble Friend,
His Soul was genuine English! and could tow'r
O'er all Calamities but conscious Guilt.

Chan.
Heav'n's Pardon greet him.—Mighty Prince! behold
Where gallant Audley, like a Tempest, pours
Destruction thro' the thickest Ranks of Foes!

Prince.
O Chandos, with Astonishment! my Eye
Hath mark'd his valiant wonder-working Sword!
Come, let us kindle at the great Example,
And emulate the Ardor we admire!

[Exeunt.
Scene changes.
Enter King John, Tourain and Attendants.
King.
[Turning back.]
Rally our Men, my Valiant Lord of Ewe,
Or we are all undone.—O gracious Heav'n!
How has a Kingdom crumbled from my Grasp!

Tour.
Let us preserve ourselves by timely Flight,
Our broken Army is dispersing: See!—
Behold the Dastards how they run in Thousands,
O Shame! almost before a single Foe.

King.
My Dear Tourain—To what have I reduc'd thee?
A Ruin now of Pomp!—A Royal Wretch!
For thee I could weep Blood! For thee I fear
To lose a Life no longer worth my Care,
Stript as I am of Dignity and Fame.

Tour.
I ask of Heav'n but to partake your Fortune:
Not wasting on myself a single Care,
I send out all attendant on my King.

King.
Tears will have way:—O Majesty! give place,
For Nature governs now, almighty Pow'rs!
Must Children, and must Kingdoms suffer thus?
Because my Pride to Reason shut my Ears,
When dazzled with the gilded Phantom, Glory!
I scorn'd the Terms that might have blest us all.
Too late—It is the Curse of giddy Mortals
To see their Errors, and repent too late.

Enter Archbishop of Sens.
Sens.
The Dauphin, Dukes of Anjou, Berry, Orleans,
Have led the Way in Flight! Earl Douglas follows,
Fainting with many Wounds, and all his Scots
Have, like our French and the Auxiliar Troops,
Forsook their Posts. For Safety, Sir, away—

King.
Dare not to urge it—I disdain the Thought.
Go, like my Coward Sons and Brother, go:
Tho' all desert me, singly will I stand
And face my Foes, 'till coverd o'er with Wounds,
I gain a Fate becoming of a King.

Enter Charney, bleeding and faint, resting on his Sword.
Char.
Embrace this Moment as your last for Flight,
The Field is lost—I have not Breath for more.—
This honest Wound came timely to my Rescue,
Or I'd been curst to wail the Dregs of Life
Away in Anguish.—Parent Earth, receive me.—
[Lies down.
This is the Goal to which all Nature runs,
And I rejoice to reach it.—All is lost!
My Country, Monarch, Daughter, Life, and—Oh!

[Dies.
King.
Thou, Charney, hast escap'd—
[A Shout.
What noise is that?

Tour.
The Sound of Triumph.—Now there is no retreating,
For, see! they have beset us all around.

King.
Come then, thou Darling of thy Father's Soul,
We'll link our wretched Fortunes here together.
And if a King's Example can inspire
The few yet faithful in my lost Condition,
Cast Fear behind, and daringly come on,
Determin'd still to conquer or to die.

[Exeunt.
Scene opens to a full Prospect of the Field.
Enter Ribemont solus.
Rib.
Ill-fated Athens, thou hast breath'd thy last,—
But wherefore call'd I thee ill-fated? since
Death but prevented thee the Curse of seeing
Our Arms dishonour'd, and our Country lost.
Now, sacred Soul of him who gave me Life,
The Purpose of thy Visit is explain'd.
No private Evil, not a Fate like mine—
That were a trivial Call for thee to Earth:
It was to warn me of a heavier Loss,
Our Diadem and Fame. Hah!—I'm alone
Amidst a Field of Foes!—let me collect
A decent Vigour, like the hunted Lion,
With an Assault to dignify my Fall,
And not shrink, tamely, to a vulgar Fate.

Enter Audley.
Aud.
For England—

Rib.
France—By Heav'n, the gallant Audley;—
Now, Fortune, I forgive thy partial Dealing:
For, next to Victory, my Wish has been
To fall by so renown'd an Arm as Audley's.

Aud.
Brave Ribemont, I will return thy Praise,
And own thee noblest of my Country's Foes.
Had we been Natives of one happy Land,
The gen'rous Semblance of our Souls had link'd us
In Friendship's dearest Bonds.

Rib.
But here we stand
Determin'd Champions in opposing Lists,
Each in his Country's Cause, the other's Foe.
Come, for I long to try this season'd Blade
Upon true Metal. If I conquer thee,
I take no Portion of the foul Disgrace,
Which Heav'n this Day has thrown upon our Arms.
But should my Fortune, (as perhaps it may)
Like my poor Country's, bow the Head to England;
Then, Audley, wilt thou add to thy Renown,
By doing what thy King has only done,
Baffle the Warriour he pronounc'd a brave one?
Now for Determination.

Aud.
Hold a Moment.—
Look on the Field, brave Ribemont; behold,
Thou hast no Passage for Escape left open!
Me should'st thou vanquish; from the thousands round thee,
Captivity or Death must be thy Lot.
Then make not Havock of great Qualities,
Nor to thy Kingdom lose, thro' Desperation;
The bravest Arm and noblest Heart it boasts.
Give my fond Wish the Power but to protect thee—
Resign thy Sword—I'll prove no Conqueror,
But clasp thee with the warmth of gen'rous Friendship.

Rib.
Audley, I thank thee; but my Hour is come—
You bid me look upon the Field; look thou,
And see the Glory of my Country blasted!
To lose a Day like this!—and to survive it—
Would be a Wretchedness I'll ne'er endure.
No; in a Nation's Fate be mine involv'd:
To fall with France is now the only Means
To satisfy my Soul, and save my Fame.

Aud.
O yet—

Rib.
I'm fixt:

Aud.
Why then—for England this—

Rib.
And this for France—

[They fight some time, then stop.
Aud.
What! neither get the better?
'Tis a tough Task!—Again— [They fight again, then stop.


Rib.
Why, valiant Lord,
The Balance still nods doubtful! as the Pow'rs
Were undetermin'd which must yield the Day.
Are our Fates grown of such high Consequence,
That Heav'n should pause upon the great Decision!
Let us no longer worry one another,
Where can the vulnerable Spot be found?

Aud.
Why there— [They fight. Ribemont falls, and Audley is wounded and rests upon his Sword.]


Rib.
No, there.

Aud.
We are Companions still!—

Rib.
Inward I bleed: the Streams of Life run fast,
And all that did invigorate deserts me.
Audley, the Palm of Victory is thine;
I yield, I die—but glory in my Fall:
It is beneath the noblest English Arm!
And that secures my Fame. Thy Bosom now
May harbour him that is thy Foe no more.
[Audley kneels and takes him in his Arms.
Why, this is kind! thus lock'd in thy Embrace,
To let a Rival Warrior breathe his last.
Report me truly as thy Sword has found—
I know thou wilt;—and, in the long Hereafter,
If we can meet,—I'll thank thee for't.—Farewel.

[Dies.
Aud.
Farewel, brave Ribemont; thou fearless Soldier.
Peace to thy Ashes—to thy Soul Reward—
And Honour crown thy Name! A Foe could weep!
But Pity would disgrace a Death like thine.

[Trumpets.
Enter Prince, Chandos and Attendants.
Prince.
[Turning back.]
Give instant Orders to recall our Parties;
I will not hazard, by a rash Pursuit,
So vast a Victory! And let my Standard
Be hoisted on the highest neigh'bring Tree,
To guide our Troops returning from the Chace.
England, my Chandos, triumphs! For our Arms
Have won the noblest Field that e'er was fought!—
Hah! Audley bleeding!—then must Conquest mourn,
And I lament, amidst my Spoils and Trophies,
The best of Nobles, Warriors, and of Friends.

Aud.
Faint with the Loss of Blood—I hope no more.

Prince.
Summon Assistance;—all that Wealth can reach
To him who gives me but his Life's Assurance.
[Exit an Attendant.
Advance that Banner o'er us.—Long, O long
May'st thou survive to wear this well-won Honour.
[He knights and embraces Audley.
My bravest Knight—My most belov'd of Men,
Lead him away,—Repose him in his Tent.
Soon as the Hurry of the Field is o'er,
I'll come in Person and attend his Cure.

Aud.
There lifeless lies the Arm that gave the Wound;
A braver Soldier never press'd the Earth!
On his Remains let due Distinction wait,
To dignify the Dust that once was noble.

[He is led off.
Prince.
The valiant Ribemont!—Take hence his Corps,
And see that ev'ry solemn Rite be paid:
With Honours suited to his high Renown,
Conduct the Body to its peaceful Grave.

[Ribemont carried off.
Chan.
The Field is thin'd! And now, far off remov'd,
The dying Voice of Tumult faintly sounds,
Like the hoarse Thunder in a distant Sky;
Or hollow Roarings of subsiding Waves,
After their Conflict with a furious Storm.

Prince.
An awful Horror!—The sad Scene before us,
Pompous with Desolation! as declines
The Glow and Ardor of our martial Flame
Softens the Mind to mournful Meditation.
How many Souls have ta'en eternal Flight;
Who, but this very Morning, on the Wing
Of Expectation, look'd thro' Years to come!
So have the Bubbles of their Hopes been broke;
So may it fare with us:—And such is Life!

Enter Louisa, and falls on her Knees.
Loui.
O mighty Prince, whose matchless Virtues charm
The many Realms your Victories have aw'd!
Lend your Compassion,—your Protection lend
To wretched, bleeding, dying Penitence.

Prince.
What would'st thou say—

Loui.
Unhappy Mariana,
At once the Victim of distressful Love,
And deep Remorse for Treachery—

Prince.
Go on.

Loui.
Frantic and weeping, ran o'er all the Field,
'Till Chance directed her to Arnold's Corps,
That weltring lay in Blood. She kiss'd it oft,
Bath'd it with Tears, tore her dishevel'd Locks,
Smote her poor Bosom, sobb'd and sadly groan'd,
'Till snatching from his clay-cold Hand his Sword,
She plung'd it sudden, in her Side!—sunk down—
And call'd on Death to lock their last Embrace.
I (but too late to save her) interpos'd,
And cry'd for Help—alas! in vain. But now,
Pluck'd by some passing Soldiers from the Body,
They force her, raving and reluctant, hither.

Prince.
O Chandos!—what a moving Sight is here!

Enter Soldiers forcing in Mariana, distracted and bleeding.
Mar.
Off, let me go—I will not be torn from him:
Relentless Monsters!—Let us mingle Blood,
And die together.—What do I behold!—
O hide me, friendly Earth,—for ever hide me
From that offended Face—

[Sinks down.
Prince.
Look up, fair Mourner,
[Kneeling by her.
And gather Comfort from my friendly Tears.

Mar.
Comfort from thee?—Thou injur'd godlike Hero!
Load me with Curses!—Stab me with Reproaches,—
Thy Sweetness cannot!—but the Hand of Heav'n,
That strikes for injur'd Virtue, heavy falls!
And crushes me beneath it.

Prince.
Weep not thus.—

Mar.
What art thou made of, Heart! to bear all this?
That grov'ling in the Dust—abandon'd—

Prince.
Nay,
Do not be so wilful—And—

Mar.
Indeed, great Prince,
The dear, departed Arnold was ensnar'd,
Seduc'd—betray'd by me. But Heav'n can witness,
My only Motive was his Preservation.
Danger, Despair! provoked the guilty Deed;
Which Horror, Death and Infamy reward.
Forgive the breathless Soldier that rever'd,
And Servant that ador'd you, Sir!—On me
Heap all your Indignation; scorn, detest,
Despise and hate my Memory for ever.

Prince.
No, both have my Compassion—my Forgiveness.

Mar.
Forgiveness said you?—O Celestial Sound!
Catch it, ye Angels, hov'ring on the Wing,
To waft me to the Bar of Heav'n's high Justice!
Offended Virtue pities and forgives!
Chaunt it aloud! and chear with this Foretaste
Of Goodness infinite,—my Drooping—Oh!—

[Dies.
Chan.
She's breathless!

Prince.
Heav'n, I hope, will think their Crime
Enough was punish'd by Affliction here.
Lay them together.—Well, my Lord of Warwick.—

Enter Warwick.
War.
I've view'd the adverse Camp, as you commanded;
Where all the Wealth of France was sure collected,
To grace the Ruin of that wretched People:
Each Tent profuse! Like those of Pompey's Host,
When on Pharsalia's Plain he fought great Cæsar,
And lost the World, his Life!—and Rome her Freedom.

Prince.
All-righteous Heav'n! thy Hand is here conspicuous!
Pride and Presumption finish thus their Shame.
[Shout.
Hark!—

Chan.
'Tis a Train of Pris'ners bringing hither.

Enter Salisbury with Officers and Soidiers, conducting King John, the Duke of Tourain, Archbishop of Sens, and several French Noblemen, Prisoners.
Prince.
Brave Salisbury, you're welcome to my Arms.
The Field is ours!

Sal.
And nobly was it fought!—
Behold, my noble Prince, how well we have acquitted
The Claims our Adversaries made on us.
Your veteran Swordsman, Sir John Pelham, sends
This Royal Trophy to adorn your Triumph.

Prince.
Most wise and valiant of all Christian Kings,
Rever'd for Virtues, and renown'd in Arms!
That I behold you thus, dissolves my Heart
With tender Feeling; while I bend the Knee
In humble Praise of that good Providence,
Which gives so great a Victory to England!
For you, great Monarch! Let your godlike Soul
Strive with Adversity, and still preserve,
As well you may, your Royal Mind unconquer'd.
Fortune is partial in her Distributions:
Could Merit always challenge its Reward,
In other Lights we might this Hour have stood,
Perhaps the Victor you, and I the Captive:
But fear no Wrong, the Good should never fear it.
This Land, from whence my Ancestors have sprung,
By me shall not be injur'd. For yourself,
And this illustrious Train of noble Pris'ners,
My Care shall be to treat you as I ought.

King.
My gracious Conqueror, and kindest Cousin,
This Goodness more than Victory renowns you!
That I'm unfortunate is no Reproach,
I brav'd all Dangers as became a King,
'Till by my coward Subjects left and lost.

Prince.
Lead to my Tent, when we are there arriv'd,
Prepare a Banquet with all princely Pomp,
At which I'll wait, and serve my Royal Guests.
My noble Lords, and brave Companions all,
I leave your Praise for the wide World to sound!
Nor can the Voice of Fame, however loud,
Out-speak the Merit of your matchless Deeds.
O may Britannia's Sons thro' ev'ry Age,
As they shall read of this so great Atchievement,
Feel the recorded Victory inspire
An Emulation of our martial Fire,
When future Wrongs their Ardor shall excite,
And future Princes lead them forth to fight!
'Till, by repeated Conquests, they obtain
A Pow'r to awe the Earth and rule the Main!
Each Tyrant Fetter gloriously unbind,
And give their Liberty to all Mankind.