תמונות בעמוד
PDF
ePub

Who, proud of this, and eager of revenge,
Commanded straight to cut off all our heads:
And furely we had dy'd, but that the duke,
More full of honour than his angry fire,
Procur'd our quick deliverance from thence:
But, ere we went, Salute your king, quoth he,
Bid him provide a funeral for his fon,
To-day our fword fhall cut his thread of life;
And, fooner than he thinks, we'll be with him,
To quittance those difpleasures he hath done:
This faid, we paff'd, 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 fee the occasion with our eyes
Did thrice fo much encrease our heavinefs:
For there, my lord, o, there we did descry
Down in a valley how both armies lay.
The French had caft their trenches like a ring;
And every barricado's open front

Was thick imboft with brazen ordinance:
Here ftood a battle of ten thousand horse;

There twice as many pikes, in quadrant wise;
Here cross-bows, arm'd with deadly-wounding darts:
And in the midft, like to a flender point
Within the compafs of the horizon,-
As 'twere a rising bubble in the fea,
A hazel-wand amidst a wood of pines,-
Or as a bear fast chain'd unto a stake,
Stood famous Edward, ftill expecting when

24 bowes and deadly

Those dogs of France would faften 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 found the trumpets' clangors 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 turn'd our watry eyes, with fighs
As black as powder fuming into smoke.
And thus, I fear, unhappy have I told
The most untimely tale of Edward's fall.
Que. Ah me! is this my welcome into France?
Is this the comfort, that I look'd to have,
When I should meet with my beloved fon?
Sweet Ned, I would, thy mother in the sea
Had been prevented of this mortal grief!

EDW. Content thee, Philippe; 'tis not tears, will serve
To call him back, if he be taken hence :
Comfort thyfelf, as I do, gentle queen,
With hope of fharp, unheard of, dire revenge.
He bids me to provide his funeral;

And fo I will: but all the peers in France
Shall mourners be, and weep out bloody tears,
Until their empty veins be dry and fere :
The pillars of his herse shall be his bones;
The mould that covers him, their city' afhes;
His knell, the groaning cries of dying men;
And, in the ftead of tapers on his tomb,
An hundred fifty towers fhall burning blaze,

5 clangor

While we bewail our valiant fon's decease.
Flourish of Trumpets within.
Enter a Herald.

Her. Rejoice, my lord, afcend the imperial throne!
The mighty and redoubted prince of Wales,
Great fervitor to bloody Mars in arms,

The Frenchman's terror, and his country's fame,
Triumphant rideth like a Roman peer:
And, lowly at his ftirrop, comes afoot
King John of France, together with his fon,
In captive bonds; whose diadem he brings,
To crown thee with, and to proclaim thee king.
EDW. Away with mourning, Philippe, wipe thine
Sound, trumpets, welcome in Plantagenet! [eyes;-
A loud Flourish. Enter Prince, Audley, Artois,
with King JOHN, and Philip.

As things, long loft, when they are found again,
So doth my fon rejoice his father's heart,

For whom, even now, my foul was much perplex'd!
[running to the Prince, and embracing him.
Que. Be this a token to exprefs my joy, [kiffing him.
For inward paffions will not let me fpeak.
Pri. My gracious father, here receive the gift,
[presenting him with King John's Crown.
This wreath of conqueft, and reward of war,
Got with as mickle peril of our lives,
As e'er was thing of price before this day;
Install your highness in your proper right:
And, herewithal, I render to your hands
These prisoners, chief occasion of our strife.

EDW. So, John of France, I fee, you keep your word; You promis'd to be fooner with ourself

Than we did think for, and 'tis fo indeed :
But, had you done at firft as now you do,
How many civil towns had ftood untouch'd,
That now are turn'd to ragged heaps of ftones?
How many people's lives might you have sav'd,
That are untimely funk into their graves?

JOH. Edward, recount not things irrevocable;
Tell me what ransom thou requir'ft to have?
EDW. Thy ranfom, John, hereafter shall be known:
But first to England thou must cross the feas,
To fee what entertainment it affords ;
Howe'er it falls, it cannot be fo bad

As ours hath been fince we arriv'd in France. JOH. "Accurfed man! of this I was foretold," "But did mifconfter what the prophet told."

Pri. Now, father, this petition Edward makes,To Thee, [kneels] whose grace hath been his strongest That, as thy pleasure chose me for the man [fhield, To be the inftrument to fhew thy power,

So thou wilt grant, that many princes more,
Bred and brought up within that little isle,
May ftill be famous for like victories! __
And, for my part, the bloody fcars I bear,
The weary nights that I have watch'd in field,
The dangerous conflicts I have often had,
The fearful menaces were proffer'd me,

The heat, and cold, and what else might difplease,
I wish were now redoubl'd twenty fold;

So that hereafter ages, when they read
The painful traffick of my tender youth,
Might thereby be enflam'd with fuch resolve,
As not the territories of France alone,

But likewise Spain, Turkey, and what countries else
That juftly would provoke fair England's ire,
Might, at their presence, tremble, and retire!

EDW. Here, English lords, we do proclaim a rest, An interceafing of our painful arms:

Sheath up your fwords, refresh your weary limbs,
Peruse your spoils; and, after we have breath'd
A day or two within this haven town,

God willing, then for England we'll be fhip'd;
Where, in a happy hour, I truft, we shall
Arrive, three kings, two princes, and a queen.

[Flourish. Exeunt omnes.

M

« הקודםהמשך »