Act I, Scene 2
Roxborough. Before the castle.
- Enter the Countess.
Countess1 - 17
- Alas, how much in vain my poor eyes gaze
- For succor that my sovereign should send!
- Ah, cousin Mountague, I fear thou wants
- The lively spirit, sharply to solicit
- With vehement suit the king in my behalf:
- Thou dost not tell him, what a grief it is
- To be the scornful captive of a Scot,
- Either to be wooed with broad untuned oaths,
- Or forced by rough insulting barbarism;
- Thou doest not tell him, if he here prevail,
- How much they will deride us in the north,
- And, in their wild, uncivil, skipping gigs,
- Bray forth their conquest and our overthrow
- Even in the barren, bleak, and fruitless air.
- Enter David and Douglas, Lorraine.
- I must withdraw, the everlasting foe
- Comes to the wall; I’ll closely step aside,
- And list their babble, blunt and full of pride.
King David18 - 37
- My lord of Lorraine, to our brother of France
- Commend us, as the man in Christendom
- That we most reverence and entirely love.
- Touching your embassage, return and say,
- That we with England will not enter parley,
- Nor never make fair weather, or take truce;
- But burn their neighbor towns, and so persist
- With eager roads beyond their city York.
- And never shall our bonny riders rest,
- Nor rusting canker have the time to eat
- Their light borne snaffles nor their nimble spurs,
- Nor lay aside their Jacks of Gymould mayle,
- Nor hang their staves of grained Scottish ash
- In peaceful wise upon their city walls,
- Nor from their buttoned tawny leathern belts
- Dismiss their biting whinyards, till your King
- Cry out, “Enough! Spare England now for pity!”
- Farewell, and tell him that you leave us here
- Before this castle; say, you came from us,
- Even when we had that yielded to our hands.
Duke of Lorraine38 - 39
- I take my leave, and fairly will return
- Your acceptable greeting to my king.
- Exit Lorraine.
King David40 - 41
- Now, Douglas, to our former task again,
- For the division of this certain spoil.
- My liege, I crave the lady, and no more.
King David43 - 44
- Nay, soft ye, sir; first I must make my choice,
- And first I do bespeak her for myself.
- Why then, my liege, let me enjoy her jewels.
King David46 - 47
- Those are her own, still liable to her,
- And who inherits her, hath those with all.
- Enter First Scottish Messenger in haste.
First Scottish Messenger48 - 55
- My liege, as we were pricking on the hills,
- To fetch in booty, marching hitherward,
- We might descry a might host of men;
- The sun, reflecting on the armor, shewed
- A field of plate, a wood of picks advanced.
- Bethink your highness speedily herein:
- An easy march within four hours will bring
- The hindmost rank unto this place, my liege.
- Dislodge, dislodge! It is the king of England.
- Jemmy, my man, saddle my bonny black.
- Meanst thou to fight, Douglas? We are too weak.
- I know it well, my liege, and therefore fly.
- Coming forward.
- My lords of Scotland, will ye stay and drink?
- She mocks at us, Douglas; I cannot endure it.
Countess62 - 64
- Say, good my lord, which is he must have the Lady,
- And which her jewels? I am sure, my lords,
- Ye will not hence, till you have shared the spoils.
King David65 - 66
- She heard the messenger, and heard our talk;
- And now that comfort makes her scorn at us.
- Enter Second Scottish Messenger.
Second Scottish Messenger67
- Arm, my good lord! O, we are all surprised!
Countess68 - 70
- After the French ambassador, my liege,
- And tell him, that you dare not ride to York;
- Excuse it that your bonny horse is lame.
King David71 - 72
- She heard that too; intolerable grief!
- Woman, farewell! Although I do not stay...
- Exeunt Scots.
Countess73 - 81
- ’Tis not for fear, and yet you run away.—
- O happy comfort, welcome to our house!
- The confident and boisterous boasting Scot,
- That swore before my walls they would not back
- For all the armed power of this land,
- With faceless fear that ever turns his back,
- Turned hence against the blasting north-east wind
- Upon the bare report and name of arms.
- Enter Mountague.
- O Summer’s day! See where my Cousin comes!
Mountague82 - 83
- How fares my Aunt? We are not Scots;
- Why do you shut your gates against your friends?
Countess84 - 85
- Well may I give a welcome, cousin, to thee,
- For thou comst well to chase my foes from hence.
Mountague86 - 87
- The king himself is come in person hither;
- Dear aunt, descend, and gratulate his highness.
Countess88 - 89
- How may I entertain his majesty,
- To shew my duty and his dignity?
- Exit, from above.
- Enter King Edward, Warwick, Artois, with others.
Edward III90 - 91
- What, are the stealing Foxes fled and gone,
- Before we could uncouple at their heels?
Earl of Warwick92 - 93
- They are, my liege; but, with a cheerful cry,
- Hot hounds and hardy chase them at the heels.
- Enter Countess.
- This is the countess, Warwick, is it not?
Earl of Warwick95 - 97
- Even she, my liege; whose beauty tyrants fear,
- As a May blossom with pernicious winds,
- Hath sullied, withered, overcast, and done.
- Hath she been fairer, Warwick, than she is?
Earl of Warwick99 - 101
- My gracious King, fair is she not at all,
- If that herself were by to stain herself,
- As I have scene her when she was herself.
Edward III102 - 106
- What strange enchantment lurked in those her eyes,
- When they excelled this excellence they have,
- That now her dim decline hath power to draw
- My subject eyes from persing majesty,
- To gaze on her with doting admiration?
Countess107 - 112
- In duty lower than the ground I kneel,
- And for my dull knees bow my feeling heart,
- To witness my obedience to your highness,
- With many millions of a subject’s thanks
- For this your royal presence, whose approach
- Hath driven war and danger from my gate.
Edward III113 - 114
- Lady, stand up; I come to bring thee peace,
- How ever thereby I have purchased war.
Countess115 - 116
- No war to you, my liege; the Scots are gone,
- And gallop home toward Scotland with their hate.
Edward III117 - 118
- Least, yielding here, I pine in shameful love,
- Come, we’ll pursue the Scots;—Artois, away!
Countess119 - 124
- A little while, my gracious sovereign, stay,
- And let the power of a mighty king
- Honor our roof; my husband in the wars,
- When he shall hear it, will triumph for joy;
- Then, dear my liege, now niggard not thy state:
- Being at the wall, enter our homely gate.
Edward III125 - 126
- Pardon me, countess, I will come no near;
- I dreamed tonight of treason, and I fear.
- Far from this place let ugly treason lie!
Edward III128 - 137
- No farther off, than her conspiring eye,
- Which shoots infected poison in my heart,
- Beyond repulse of wit or cure of art.
- Now, in the sun alone it doth not lie,
- With light to take light from a mortal eye;
- For here two day stars that mine eyes would see
- More than the sun steals mine own light from me,
- Contemplative desire, desire to be
- In contemplation, that may master thee!
- Warwick, Artois, to horse and let’s away!
- What might I speak to make my sovereign stay?
Edward III139 - 140
- What needs a tongue to such a speaking eye,
- That more persuades than winning Oratory?
Countess141 - 161
- Let not thy presence, like the April sun,
- Flatter our earth and suddenly be done.
- More happy do not make our outward wall
- Than thou wilt grace our inner house withal.
- Our house, my liege, is like a country swain,
- Whose habit rude and manners blunt and plain
- Presageth nought, yet inly beautified
- With bounties, riches and faire hidden pride.
- For where the golden ore doth buried lie,
- The ground, undecked with nature’s tapestry,
- Seems barren, sere, unfertile, fructless, dry;
- And where the upper turf of earth doth boast
- His pied perfumes and party colored coat,
- Delve there, and find this issue and their pride
- To spring from ordure and corruption’s side.
- But, to make up my all too long compare,
- These ragged walls no testimony are,
- What is within; but, like a cloak, doth hide
- From weather’s Waste the under garnished pride.
- More gracious then my terms can let thee be,
- Intreat thyself to stay a while with me.
Edward III162 - 165
- As wise, as fair; what fond fit can be heard,
- When wisdom keeps the gate as beauty’s guard?—
- It shall attend, while I attend on thee:
- Come on, my lords; here will I host tonight.