Edward the Third / edited with a preface, notes and glossary by G. C. Moore Smith.

Audley
I will, my lord.
Exit. Retreat.

King Edward
Just-dooming Heaven, whose secret providence
To our gross judgment is inscrutable,
How are we bound to praise thy wondrous works,
That hast this day giv'n way unto the right
And made the wicked stumble at themselves!
Enter Artois, hastily.

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 labouring for a knighthood, man.

Enter Derby, hastily.
Derby
The prince, my lord, the prince! 0, succour him;
He's close encompass'd with a world of odds!

King Edward
Then will he win a world of honour too
If he by valour can redeem him thence:
If not, what remedy? we have more sons
Than one, to comfort our declining age.

Re-enter Audley, hastily.
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; whilst he, lion-like,
Entangled in the net of their assaults,
Franticly rends and bites the woven toil:
But all in vain, he cannot free himself.

King Edward
Audley, content; I will not have a man,
On pain of death, sent forth to succour him:
This is the day ordain'd by destiny
To season his courage with those grievous thoughts,
That, if he breathe out Nestor's years on earth,
Will make him savour still of this exploit.

Derby
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 wilfulness,
To let his blood be spilt that may be sav'd.

King Edward
Exclaim no more; for none of you can tell
Whether a borrow'd 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 deliver'd by our hands,
And still in danger he'll expect the like;
But if himself himself redeem from thence,
He will have vanquish'd, 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!

Derby
Farewell, sweet prince, the hope of chivalry!

Artois
O, would my life might ransom him from death!

King Edward
But, soft; methinks 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 hand his shivered lance; his sword, and battered armour, borne before him, and the body of the King of Bohemia, wrapped in the colours. Lords run and embrace him.

Audley
O joyful sight! victorious Edward lives!

Derby
Welcome, brave prince!

King Edward
Welcome, Plantagenet!
Embracing him.

Prince Edward
First having done my duty, as beseem'd,
Kneels, and kisses his father's hand.
Lords, I regreet you all with hearty thanks.
And now, behold, — after my winter's toil,
My painful voyage on the boist'rous sea
Of war's devouring gulfs and steely rocks, —
I bring my fraught unto the wished port,
My summer's hope, my travel's sweet reward:
And here with humble duty I present
This sacrifice, this firstfruit of my sword,
Cropp'd and cut down even at the gate of death,
The King of Boheme, father, whom I slew;

Whose thousands had intrench'd me round about,
And lay as thick upon my batter'd crest
As on an anvil with their pond'rous glaives:
Yet marble courage still did underprop;
And when my weary arms with often blows,—
Like the continual-lab'ring woodman's axe
That is enjoin'd to fell a load of oaks,—
Began to falter, straight I would remember
My gifts you gave me and my zealous vow,
And then new courage made me fresh again;
That, in despite, I carv'd my passage forth
And put the multitude to speedy flight.
Lo, thus hath Edward's hand fill'd your request,
And done, I hope, the duty of a knight.

King Edward
Ay, well thou hast deserv'd a knighthood, Ned!
And, therefore, with thy sword, yet reeking warm
Receiving it from the soldier who bore it and laying it on the kneeling Prince.
With blood of those that sought to be thy bane,
Arise, Prince Edward, trusty knight at arms
This day thou hast confounded me with joy
And proved thyself 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; fourscore
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 know'st King Edward for no wantonness,
No love-sick cockney; nor his soldiers, jades.
But which way is the fearful king escap'd?

Prince Edward
Towards Poitiers, noble father, and his sons.

King Edward
Ned, thou and Audley shall pursue them still;
Myself and Derby will to Calice straight,
And there begirt that haven-town with siege:
Now lies it on an upshot; therefore strike,
And wistly follow while 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.'

Flourish. Exeunt in triumph.

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Scene v