University of Virginia Library

Scene iii

The Same.
Drums. Enter King Edward, marching; Derby, etc.,
and Forces, and Gobin de Grey.
King Edward
Where is the Frenchman, by whose cunning guide
We found the shallow of this river Somme,
And had direction how to pass the sea?

Gobin
Here, my good lord.

King Edward
How art thou called? tell me thy name.

Gobin
Gobin de Grey, if please your excellence.

King Edward
Then, Gobin, for the service thou hast done,
We here enlarge and give thee liberty;
And, for [a] recompense, beside this good,
Thou shalt receive five hundred marks in gold.—
I know not how, we should have met our son;
Whom now in heart I wish I might behold.

Enter Artois.
Artois
Good news, my lord; the prince is hard at hand,
And with him comes Lord Audley and the rest,
Whom since our landing we could never meet.

Enter prince, Audley, and Forces.
King Edward
Welcome, fair prince! How hast thou sped, my son,
Since thy arrival on the coast of France?

Prince Edward
Successfully, I thank the gracious heavens
Some of their strongest cities we have won,
As Harflew, Lo, Crotaye, and Carentine,
And others wasted; leaving at our heels
A wide apparent field and beaten path
For solitariness to progress in:
Yet, those that would submit, we kindly pardon'd;
But who in scorn refus'd our proffer'd peace,
Endur'd the penalty of sharp revenge.

King Edward
Ah, France, why shouldst thou be thus obstinate
Against the kind embracement of thy friends?
How gently had we thought to touch thy breast
And set our foot upon thy tender mould,
But that in froward and disdainful pride
Thou, like a skittish and untamed colt,
Dost start aside and strike us with thy heels?—
But tell me, Ned, in all thy warlike course
Hast thou not seen the usurping King of France?

Prince Edward
Yes, my good lord, and not two hours ago,
With full a hundred thousand fighting men,
Upon the one side of the river's bank,
I on the other; with his multitudes
I fear'd he would have cropp'd our smaller power:
But, happily, perceiving your approach
He hath withdrawn himself to Cressy plains
Where, as it seemeth by his good array,
He means to bid us battle presently.

King Edward
He shall be welcome, that's the thing we crave.

Enter King John; Charles and Philip, his Sons;
Bohemia, Lorraine, etc., and Forces.
King John
Edward, know, that John, the true King of France,—
Musing thou shouldst encroach upon his land,
And, in thy tyrannous proceeding, slay
His faithful subjects and subvert his towns,—
Spits in thy face; and in this manner following
Upbraids thee with thine arrogant intrusion.
First, I condemn thee for a fugitive,
A thievish pirate, and a needy mate;
One, that hath either no abiding place,
Or else, inhabiting some barren soil,
Where neither herb nor fruitful grain is had,
Dost altogether live by pilfering:
Next,—insomuch thou hast infring'd thy faith,
Broke league and solemn covenant made with me,—
I hold thee for a false pernicious wretch
And last of all,—although I scorn to cope
With one so much inferior to myself;
Yet, in respect thy thirst is all for gold,
Thy labour rather to be feard than lov'd,
To satisfy thy lust in either part,
Here am I come, and with me have I brought
Exceeding store of treasure, pearl and coin.
Leave therefore now to persecute the weak
And, armed ent'ring conflict with the arm'd,
Let it be seen, 'mongst other petty thefts,
How thou canst win this pillage manfully.

King Edward
If gall or wormwood have a pleasant taste,
Then is thy salutation honey-sweet:
But as the one hath no such property,
So is the other most satirical.
Yet wot how I regard thy worthless taunts
If thou have utter'd them to foil my fame
Or dim the reputation of my birth,
Know that thy wolvish barking cannot hurt:
If slily to insinuate with the world,
And with a strumpet's artificial line
To paint thy vicious and deformed cause,
Be well assur'd the counterfeit will fade
And in the end thy foul defects be seen:
But if thou didst it to provoke me on,—
As who should say, I were but timorous,
Or coldly negligent did need a spur,—
Bethink thyself how slack I was at sea
How, since my landing, I have won no towns,
Enter'd no further but upon the coast,
And there have ever since securely slept.
But if I have been otherwise employ'd,
Imagine, Valois, whether I intend
To skirmish, not for pillage, but for the crown
Which thou dost wear; and that I vow to have,
Or one of us shall fall into his grave.

Prince Edward
Look not for cross invectives at our hands
Or railing execrations of despite:
Let creeping serpents hid in hollow banks
Sting with their tongues; we have remorseless swords,
And they shall plead for us and our affairs.
Yet thus much, briefly, by my father's leave:
As all the immodest poison of thy throat
Is scandalous and most notorious lies,
And our pretended quarrel is truly just,
So end the battle when we meet to-day;
May either of us prosper and prevail
Or, luckless curst, receive eternal shame!

King Edward
That needs no further question, and, I know,
His conscience witnesseth, it is my right.—
Therefore, Valois, say, wilt thou yet resign,
Before the sickle's thrust into the corn
Or that enkindled fury turn to flame?

King John
Edward, I know what right thou hast in France;
And ere I basely will resign my crown,
This champion field shall be a pool of blood
And all our prospect as a slaughter-house.

Prince Edward
Ay, that approves thee, tyrant, what thou art:
No father, king or shepherd of thy realm;
But one that tears her entrails with thy hands
And, like a thirsty tiger, suck'st her blood.

Audley
You peers of France, why do you follow him
That is so prodigal to spend your lives?

Charles
Whom should they follow, aged impotent,
But he that is their true-born sovereign?

King Edward
Upbraid'st thou him, because within his face
Time hath engrav'd deep characters of age?
Know, these grave scholars of experience,
Like stiff-grown oaks, will stand immovable,
When whirlwind quickly turns up younger trees.

Derby
Was ever any of thy father's house
King, but thyself, before this present time?
Edward's great lineage, by the mother's side,
Five hundred years hath held the sceptre up:—
Judge then, conspirators, by this descent,
Which is the true-born sovereign, this, or that.

Philip
Father, range your battles, prate no more;
These English fain would spend the time in words,
That, night approaching, they escape unfought.

King John
Lords and my loving subjects, now's the time
That your intended force must bide the touch:
Therefore, my friends, consider this in brief,
He that you fight for is your natural king;
He against whom you fight, a foreigner:
He that you fight for, rules in clemency
And reins you with a mild and gentle bit;
He against whom you fight, if he prevail,
Will straight enthrone himself in tyranny,
Make slaves of you, and with a heavy hand
Curtail and curb your sweetest liberty.
Then, to protect your country and your king,
Let but the haughty courage of your hearts
Answer the number of your able hands,
And we shall quickly chase these fugitives.
For what's this Edward but a belly-god,
A tender and lascivious wantonness,
That th' other day was almost dead for love?
And what, I pray you, is his goodly guard?
Such as, but scant them of their chines of beef
And take away their downy feather-beds,
And, presently, they are as resty-stiff
As 'twere a many over-ridden jades.
Then, Frenchmen, scorn that such should be your lords,
And rather bind ye them in captive bands.

Frenchmen
Vive le Roy! God save King John of France!

King John
Now on this plain of Cressy spread yourselves,—
And, Edward, when thou dar'st, begin the fight.

Exeunt King John, Charles, Philip, Lorraine, Bohemia, and Forces.
King Edward
We presently will meet thee, John of France:—
And, English lords, let us resolve to-day
Either to clear us of that scandalous crime
Or be entombed in our innocence—
And, Ned, because this battle is the first
That ever yet thou fought'st in pitched field,
As ancient custom is of Martialists,
To dub thee with the type of chivalry,
In solemn manner we will give thee arms:—
Come, therefore, heralds, orderly bring forth
A strong attirement for the prince my son.—
Flourish. Enter four Heralds, bringing a
coat-armour, a helmet, a lance, and a shield: first
Herald delivers the armour to King Edward,
who puts it on his Son.
Edward Plantagenet, in the name of God,
As with this armour I impale thy breast,
So be thy noble unrelenting heart
Wall'd in with flint of matchless fortitude
That never base affections enter there;
Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st!—
Now follow, lords, and do him honour too.

Derby
Receiving the helmet from the second Herald.
Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,
As I do set this helmet on thy head,
Wherewith the chamber of thy brain is fenc'd,
So may thy temples, with Bellona's hand,
Be still adorn'd with laurel victory;
Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st!—

Audley
Receiving the lance from the third Herald.
Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,
Receive this lance into thy manly hand;
Use it in fashion of a brazen pen
To draw forth bloody stratagems in France
And print thy valiant deeds in honour's book;
Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st!

Artois
Receiving the shield from the fourth Herald.
Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,
Hold, take this target, wear it on thy arm;
And may the view thereof, like Perseus' shield,
Astonish and transform thy gazing foes
To senseless images of meagre death;
Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st!

King Edward
Now wants there nought but knighthood; which deferr'd
We leave till thou hast won it in the field.

Prince Edward
My gracious father, and ye forward peers,
This honour, you have done me, animates
And cheers my green yet-scarce-appearing strength
With comfortable good-presaging signs,
No otherwise than did old Jacob's words
When as he breath'd his blessings on his sons.
These hallow'd gifts of yours when I profane,
Or use them not to glory of my God,
To patronage the fatherless and poor,
Or for the benefit of England's peace,
Be numb my joints! wax feeble both mine arms!
Wither my heart! that, like a sapless tree,
I may remain the map of infamy.

King Edward
Then thus our steeled battles shall be rang'd;-
The leading of the vaward, Ned, is thine;
To dignify whose lusty spirit the more,
We temper it with Audley's gravity;
That, courage and experience join'd in one,
Your manage may be second unto none:
For the main battles, I will guide myself;
And, Derby, in the rearward march behind.
That orderly dispos'd and set in 'ray,
Let us to horse; and God grant us the day!