Edward III
Act IV, Scene 4
Poitou. Fields near Poitiers. The English camp.
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Enter Prince Edward, Audley, and others.
Prince Edward
1 - 9
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Audley, the arms of death embrace us round,
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And comfort have we none, save that to die
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We pay sower earnest for a sweeter life.
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At Cressy’s field out clouds of warlike smoke
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Choked up those French mouths and dissevered them;
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But now their multitudes of millions hide,
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Masking as twere, the beauteous burning sun,
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Leaving no hope to us, but sullen dark
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And eyeless terror of all ending night.
Audley
10 - 39
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This sudden, mighty, and expedient head
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That they have made, fair prince, is wonderful.
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Before us in the valley lies the king,
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Vantaged with all that heaven and earth can yield;
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His party stronger battled than our whole:
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His son, the braving Duke of Normandy,
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Hath trimmed the mountain on our right hand up
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In shining plate, that now the aspiring hill
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Shews like a silver quarry or an orb,
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Aloft the which the banners, bannarets,
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And new replenished pendants cuff the air
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And beat the winds, that for their gaudiness
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Struggles to kiss them: on our left hand lies
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Philip, the younger issue of the king,
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Coating the other hill in such array,
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That all his guilded upright pikes do seem
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Straight trees of gold, the pendants leaves;
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And their device of antique heraldry,
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Quartered in colors, seeming sundry fruits,
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Makes it the orchard of the Hesperides:
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Behind us too the hill doth bear his height,
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For like a half-moon, opening but one way,
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It rounds us in; there at our backs are lodged
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The fatal crossbows, and the battle there
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Is governed by the rough Chatillion.
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Then thus it stands: the valley for our flight
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The king binds in; the hills on either hand
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Are proudly royalized by his sons;
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And on the Hill behind stands certain death
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In pay and service with Chatillion.
Prince Edward
40 - 65
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Death’s name is much more mighty than his deeds;
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Thy parcelling this power hath made it more.
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As many sands as these my hands can hold,
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Are but my handful of so many sands;
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Then, all the world, and call it but a power,
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Easily ta’en up, and quickly thrown away:
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But if I stand to count them sand by sand,
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The number would confound my memory,
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And make a thousand millions of a task,
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Which briefly is no more, indeed, than one.
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These quarters, squadrons, and these regiments,
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Before, behind us, and on either hand,
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Are but a power. When we name a man,
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His hand, his foot, his head hath several strengths;
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And being all but one self instant strength,
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Why, all this many, Audley, is but one,
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And we can call it all but one man’s strength.
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He that hath far to go, tells it by miles;
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If he should tell the steps, it kills his heart:
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The drops are infinite, that make a flood,
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And yet, thou knowest, we call it but a Rain.
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There is but one France, one King of France,
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That France hath no more kings; and that same King
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Hath but the puissant legion of one king,
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And we have one: then apprehend no odds,
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For one to one is fair equality.
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Enter First French Herald from King John.
Prince Edward
66
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What tidings, messenger? Be plain and brief.
First French Herald
67 - 76
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The King of France, my sovereign lord and master,
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Greets by me his foe, the Prince of Wales:
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If thou call forth a hundred men of name,
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Of lords, knights, squires, and English gentlemen,
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And with thyself and those kneel at his feet,
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He straight will fold his bloody colors up,
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And ransom shall redeem lives forfeited;
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If not, this day shall drink more English blood,
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Than ere was buried in our British earth.
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What is the answer to his proffered mercy?
Prince Edward
77 - 86
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This heaven, that covers France, contains the mercy
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That draws from me submissive orisons;
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That such base breath should vanish from my lips,
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To urge the plea of mercy to a man,
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The lord forbid! Return, and tell the king,
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My tongue is made of steel, and it shall beg
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My mercy on his coward burgonet;
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Tell him, my colors are as red as his,
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My men as bold, our English arms as strong:
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Return him my defiance in his face.
First French Herald
87
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I go.
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Enter a Second French Herald.
Prince Edward
88
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What news with thee?
Second French Herald
89 - 94
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The Duke of Normandy, my lord and master,
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Pitying thy youth is so ingirt with peril,
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By me hath sent a nimble-jointed jennet,
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As swift as ever yet thou didst bestride,
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And therewithall he counsels thee to fly;
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Else death himself hath sworn that thou shalt die.
Prince Edward
95 - 100
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Back with the beast unto the beast that sent him!
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Tell him I cannot sit a coward’s horse;
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Bid him today bestride the jade himself,
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For I will stain my horse quite o’er with blood,
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And double gild my spurs, but I will catch him;
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So tell the cap’ring boy, and get thee gone.
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Enter a Third French Herald.
Third French Herald
101 - 109
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Edward of Wales, Philip, the second son
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To the most mighty christian king of France,
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Seeing thy body’s living date expired,
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All full of charity and christian love,
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Commends this book, full fraught with prayers,
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To thy fair hand and for thy hour of life
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Intreats thee that thou meditate therein,
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And arm thy soul for her long journey towards—
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Thus have I done his bidding, and return.
Prince Edward
110 - 122
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Herald of Philip, greet thy lord from me:
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All good that he can send, I can receive;
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But thinkst thou not, the unadvised boy
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Hath wronged himself in thus far tendering me?
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Happily he cannot pray without the book—
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I think him no divine extemporall—,
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Then render back this common place of prayer,
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To do himself good in adversity;
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Beside he knows not my sins’ quality,
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And therefore knows no prayers for my avail;
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Ere night his prayer may be to pray to God,
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To put it in my heart to hear his prayer.
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So tell the courtly wanton, and be gone.
Third French Herald
123
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I go.
Prince Edward
124 - 133
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How confident their strength and number makes them!—
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Now, Audley, sound those silver wings of thine,
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And let those milk white messengers of time
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Shew thy times learning in this dangerous time.
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Thy self art bruis’d and bit with many broils,
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And stratagems forepast with iron pens
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Are texted in thine honorable face;
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Thou art a married man in this distress,
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But danger woos me as a blushing maid:
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Teach me an answer to this perilous time.
Audley
134 - 149
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To die is all as common as to live:
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The one ince-wise, the other holds in chase;
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For, from the instant we begin to live,
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We do pursue and hunt the time to die:
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First bud we, then we blow, and after seed,
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Then, presently, we fall; and, as a shade
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Follows the body, so we follow death.
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If, then, we hunt for death, why do we fear it?
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If we fear it, why do we follow it?
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If we do fear, how can we shun it?
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If we do fear, with fear we do but aide
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The thing we fear to seize on us the sooner:
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If we fear not, then no resolved proffer
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Can overthrow the limit of our fate;
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For, whether ripe or rotten, drop we shall,
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As we do draw the lottery of our doom.
Prince Edward
150 - 162
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Ah, good old man, a thousand thousand armors
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These words of thine have buckled on my back:
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Ah, what an idiot hast thou made of life,
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To seek the thing it fears! And how disgraced
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The imperial victory of murdering death,
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Since all the lives his conquering arrows strike
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Seek him, and he not them, to shame his glory!
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I will not give a penny for a life,
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Nor half a halfpenny to shun grim death,
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Since for to live is but to seek to die,
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And dying but beginning of new life.
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Let come the hour when he that rules it will!
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To live or die I hold indifferent.