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 freight unto the wished port,
My summer’s hope, my travail’s sweet reward.
(Pointing at Bohemia’s body) And here, with humble duty, I present
This sacrifice, this first fruit of my sword,
Cropped and cut down even at the gate of death:
The King of Bohême, father, whom I slew,
Whose thousands had entrenched me round about,
And lay as thick upon my battered crest
As on an anvil with their ponderous glaives.
Yet marble courage still did underprop,
And when my weary arms with often blows,
Like the continual labouring woodman’s axe
That is enjoined to fell a load of oaks,
Began to falter, straight I would recover
My gifts you gave me and my zealous vow,
And then new courage made me fresh again
That, in despite, I carved my passage forth,
And put the multitude to speedy flight.
Lo, thus hath Edward’s hand filled your request
And done, I hope, the duty of a knight.
His sword borne forth by a soldier
KING EDWARD
Ay, well thou hast deserved a knighthood, Ned,
He takes the sword
And therefore, with thy sword yet reeking warm
With blood of those that fought to be thy bane,
He knights the Prince
Arise Prince Edward, trusty knight-at-arms.
This day thou hast confounded me with joy
And proved thyself fit heir unto a king.
PRINCE OF WALES (rising, and then giving the King a paper)
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, Jean 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 escaped?
PRINCE OF WALES
Towards Poitiers, noble father, and his sons.
KING EDWARD
Ned, thou and Audley shall pursue them still.
Myself and Derby will to Calais straight,
And there begirt that haven town with siege.
Now lies it on an upshot: therefore, strike,
And wistly follow whiles the game’s on foot. Exeunt
Sc. 9 Enter the Comte de Montfort with a coronet in his hand and with him the Earl of Salisbury
COMTE DE MONTFORT
My lord of Salisbury, since by your aid
Mine enemy Sir Charles of Blois is slain,
And I again am quietly possessed
In Bretagne’s dukedom, know that I resolve,
For this kind furtherance of your king and you,
To swear allegiance to his majesty—
He offers Salisbury the coronet
In sign whereof receive this coronet.
Bear it unto him, and withal mine oath
Never to be but Edward’s faithful friend.
EARL OF SALISBURY (taking the coronet)
I take it, Montfort. Thus I hope ere long
The whole dominions of the realm of France
Will be surrendered to his conquering hand.
Exit Montfort
Now, if I knew but safely how to pass,
I would at Calais gladly meet his grace,
Whither I am by letters certified
That he intends to have his host removed.
It shall be so. This policy will serve.
(Calling) Ho, who’s within? Bring Villiers to me.
Enter Villiers
Villiers, thou know’st thou art my prisoner,
And that I might for ransom, if I would,
Require of thee a hundred thousand francs,
Or else retain and keep thee captive still.
But so it is that for a smaller charge
Thou mayst be quit, an if thou wilt thyself.
And this it is: procure me but a passport
Of Charles, the Duke of Normandy, that I
Without restraint may have recourse to Calais
Through all the countries where he hath to do—
Which thou mayst easily obtain, I think,
By reason I have often heard thee say
He and thou were students once together—
And then thou shalt be set at liberty.
How sayst thou? Wilt thou undertake to do it?
VILLIERS
I will, my lord. But I must speak with him.
EARL OF SALISBURY
Why, so thou shalt! Take horse and post from hence—
Only before thou go’st, swear by thy faith
That if thou canst not compass my desire,
Thou wilt return my prisoner back again,
And that shall be sufficient warrant for me.
VILLIERS
To that condition I agree, my lord,
And will unfeignedly perform the same.
Exit
EARL or SALISBURY Farewell, Villiers!
Thus once I mean to try a Frenchman’s faith.
Exit
Sc. 10 Enter King Edward and the Earl of Derby with soldiers
KING EDWARD
Since they refuse our proffered league, my lord,
And will not ope their gates and let us in,
We will entrench ourselves on every side,
That neither victuals nor supply of men
May come to succour this accursed town.
Famine shall combat where our swords are stopped.
Enter six poor Frenchmen
EARL OF DERBY
The promised aid that made them stand aloof
Is now retired and gone another way.
It will repent them of their stubborn will.
But what are these poor, ragged slaves, my lord?
KING EDWARD
Ask what they are. It seems they come from Calais.
EARL OF DERBY (to the poor Frenchmen)
You wretched patterns of despair and woe—
What are you? Living men, or gliding ghosts
Crept from your graves to walk upon the earth?
POOR MAN
No ghosts, my lord, but men that breathe a life
Far worse than is the quiet sleep of death.
We are distressed poor inhabitants
That long have been diseased, sick and lame.
And now, because we are not fit to serve,
The Captain of the town hath thrust us forth
That so expense of victuals may be saved.
KING EDWARD
A charitable deed, no doubt, and worthy praise!
But how do you imagine, then, to speed?
We are your enemies: in such a case
We can no less but put ye to the sword,
Since, when we proffered truce, it was refused.
POOR MAN
An if your grace no otherwise vouchsafe,
As welcome death is unto us as life.
KING EDWARD
Poor seely men, much wronged, and more distressed!
Go, Derby, go, and see they be relieved.
Command that victuals be appointed them,
And give to every one five crowns apiece.
Exeunt the Earl of Derby and the six poor Frenchmen
The lion scorns to touch the yielding prey,
And Edward’s sword must fresh itself in such
As wilful stubbornness hath made perverse.
En
ter Lord Percy
Lord Percy, welcome. What’s the news in England?
PERCY
The Queen, my lord, commends her to your grace,
And from her highness and the lord vicegerent
I bring this happy tidings of success:
David of Scotland, lately up in arms,
Thinking belike he soonest should prevail—
Your highness being absent from the realm—
Is by the fruitful service of your peers
And painful travail of the Queen herself—
That, big with child, was every day in arms—
Vanquished, subdued and taken prisoner.
KING EDWARD
Thanks, Percy, for thy news, with all my heart!
What was he took him prisoner in the field?
PERCY
A squire, my lord. John Copland is his name,
Who, since entreated by her majesty,
Denies to make surrender of his prize
To any but unto your grace alone—
Whereat the Queen is grievously displeased.
KING EDWARD
Well then, we’ll have a pursuivant dispatched
To summon Copland hither out of hand,
And with him he shall bring his prisoner-king.
PERCY
The Queen, my lord, herself by this at sea,
And purposeth, as soon as wind will serve,
To land at Calais, and to visit you.
KING EDWARD
She shall be welcome, and to wait her coming
I’ll pitch my tent near to the sandy shore.
Enter a Captain of Calais
CAPTAIN OF CALAIS
The burgesses of Calais, mighty king,
Have, by a council, willingly decreed
To yield the town and castle to your hands
Upon condition it will please your grace
To grant them benefit of life and goods.
KING EDWARD
They will so? Then, belike, they may command,
Dispose, elect and govern as they list!
No, sirrah. Tell them, since they did refuse
Our princely clemency at first proclaimed,
They shall not have it now, although they would.
I will accept of naught but fire and sword—
Except within these two days, six of them,
That are the wealthiest merchants in the town,
Come naked all but for their linen shirts,
With each a halter hanged about his neck,
And, prostrate, yield themselves upon their knees
To be afflicted, hanged or what I please.
And so you may inform their masterships.
Exeunt all but the Captain
CAPTAIN OF CALAIS
Why, this it is to trust a broken staff. Had we not been persuaded Jean, our king, Would, with his army, have relieved the town, We had not stood upon defiance so. But now ’tis past that no man can recall, 84 And better some do go to wreck than all.
Exit
Sc. 11 Enter the Dauphin and Villiers with a paper
DAUPHIN
I wonder, Villiers, thou shouldst importune me
For one that is our deadly enemy.
VILLIERS
Not for his sake, my gracious lord, so much
Am I become an earnest advocate
As that, thereby, my ransom will be quit.
DAUPHIN
Thy ransom, man? Why need’st thou talk of that?
Art thou not free? And are not all occasions
That happen for advantage of our foes
To be accepted of and stood upon?
VILLIERS
No, good my lord, except the same be just.
For profit must with honour be commixed,
Or else our actions are but scandalous.
But, letting pass these intricate objections,
Will’t please your highness to subscribe or no?
DAUPHIN
Villiers, I will not nor I cannot do it.
Salisbury shall not have his will so much
To claim a passport how it pleaseth him.
VILLIERS
Why then, I know the extremity, my lord.
I must return to prison, whence I came.
DAUPHIN Return? I hope thou wilt not!
What bird that hath escaped the fowler’s gin
Will not beware how she’s ensnared again?
Or what is he so senseless and secure
That, having hardly passed a dangerous gulf,
Will put himself in peril there again?
VILLIERS
Ah, but it is mine oath, my gracious lord,
Which I in conscience may not violate—
Or else a kingdom should not draw me hence.
DAUPHIN
Thine oath? Why, that doth bind thee to abide.
Hast thou not sworn obedience to thy Prince?
VILLIERS
In all things that uprightly he commands.
But either to persuade or threaten me
Not to perform the covenant of my word
Is lawless, and I need not to obey.
DAUPHIN
Why, is it lawful for a man to kill,
And not to break a promise with his foe?
VILLIERS
To kill, my lord, when war is once proclaimed,
So that our quarrel be for wrongs received,
No doubt is lawfully permitted us.
But in an oath, we must be well advised
How we do swear, and when we once have sworn,
Not to infringe it, though we die therefor.
Therefore, my lord, as willing I return
As if I were to fly to paradise.
He begins to leave
DAUPHIN
Stay, my Villiers. Thine honourable mind
Deserves to be eternally admired.
Thy suit shall be no longer thus deferred.
Give me the paper. I’ll subscribe to it.
Villiers gives him the paper, which the Dauphin signs
And wheretofore I loved thee as Villiers,
Hereafter I’ll embrace thee as myself.
Stay, and be still in favour with thy lord.
VILLIERS (receiving back the paper)
I humbly thank your grace. I must dispatch
And send this passport first unto the Earl,
And then I will attend your highness’ pleasure.
DAUPHIN
Do so, Villiers. And Charles, when he hath need,
Be such his soldiers, howsoever he speed.
Exit Villiers
Enter ⌉ean King of France
KING OF FRANCE
Come, Charles, and arm thee. Edward is entrapped.
The Prince of Wales is fall’n into our hands,
And we have compassed him. He cannot scape.
DAUPHIN
But will your highness fight today?
KING OF FRANCE
What else, my son? He’s scarce eight thousand strong,
And we are threescore thousand at the least.
DAUPHIN
I have a prophecy, my gracious lord,
Wherein is written what success is like
To happen us in this outrageous war.
It was delivered me at Crécy’s field
By one that is an aged hermit there:
‘When feathered fowl shall make thine army tremble,
And flintstones rise and break the battle ’ray,
Then think on him that doth not now dissemble,
For that shall be the hapless dreadful day,
Yet in the end thy foot thou shalt advance
As far in England as thy foe in France.’
KING OF FRANCE
By this it seems we shall be fortunate.
For, as it is impossible that stones
Should ever rise and break the battle ’ray,
Or airy fowl make men in arms to quake,
So is it like we shall
not be subdued.
Or, say this might be true: yet in the end,
Since he doth promise we shall drive him hence
And scourge their country as they have done ours,
By this revenge that loss will seem the less.
But all are frivolous fancies, toys and dreams.
Once we are sure we have ensnared the son,
Catch we the father after how we can.
Exeunt
Sc. 12 Enter Edward Prince of Wales, Lord Audley and others
PRINCE OF WALES
Audley, the arms of death embrace us round
And comfort have we none, save that to die
We pay sour earnest for a sweeter life.
At Crécy field our clouds of warlike smoke
Choked up those French mouths and dissevered them,
But now their multitudes of millions hide,
Masking, as ’twere, the beauteous burning sun,
Leaving no hope to us but sullen dark
And eyeless terror of all-ending night.
AUDLEY
This sudden, mighty and expedient head
That they have made, fair Prince, is wonderful.
Before us, in the valley, lies the King,
Vantaged with all that heaven and earth can yield,
His party stronger battled than our whole.
His son, the braving Duke of Normandy,
Hath trimmed the mountain on our right hand up
In shining plate, that now the aspiring hill
Shows like a silver quarry, or an orb,
Aloft the which the banners, bannerets
And new-replenished pennants cuff the air
And beat the winds that, for their gaudiness,
Struggles to kiss them. On our left hand lies
Philippe, the younger issue of the King,
Coating the other hill in such array
That all his gilded upright pikes do seem
Straight trees of gold; the pendant ensigns, leaves,
And their device of antique heraldry,
Quartered in colours seeming sundry fruits,
Makes it the orchard of the Hesperides.
Behind us too the hill doth rear his height,
For, like a half-moon opening but one way,
It rounds us in. There, at our backs, are lodged
The fatal crossbows, and the battle there
Is governed by the rough Châtillion.
Then thus it stands: the valley for our flight
The King binds in, the hills on either hand
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 98
