Edward III
Act IV, Scene 9
Poitou. Fields near Poitiers. The English camp.
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Enter Prince Edward, King John, Charles, and all, with
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ensigns spread.
Prince Edward
1 - 9
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Now, John in France, and lately John of France,
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Thy bloody ensigns are my captive colors;
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And you, high vaunting Charles of Normandy,
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That once today sent me a horse to fly,
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Are now the subjects of my clemency.
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Fie, lords! Is it not a shame that English boys,
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Whose early days are yet not worth a beard,
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Should in the bosom of your kingdom thus,
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One against twenty, beat you up together?
John de Valois, King of France
10
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Thy fortune, not thy force, hath conquered us.
Prince Edward
11 - 25
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An argument that heaven aides the right.
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Enter Artois with Philip.
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See, see! Artois doth bring with him along
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The late good counsel giver to my soul.
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Welcome, Artois; and welcome, Philip, too:
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Who now of you or I have need to pray?
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Now is the proverb verified in you:
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“Too bright a morning breeds a low’ring day.”
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Sound trumpets. Enter Audley.
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But say, what grim discouragement comes here!
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Alas, what thousand armed men of France
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Have writ that note of death in Audley’s face?
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Speak, thou that wooest death with thy careless smile,
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And lookst so merrily upon thy grave,
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As if thou were enamored on thine end:
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What hungry sword hath so bereaved thy face,
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And lopped a true friend from my loving soul?
Audley
26 - 27
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O Prince, thy sweet bemoaning speech to me
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Is as a mournful knell to one dead-sick.
Prince Edward
28 - 36
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Dear Audley, if my tongue ring out thy end,
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My arms shall be thy grave: what may I do
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To win thy life, or to revenge thy death?
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If thou wilt drink the blood of captive kings,
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Or that it were restorative, command
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A health of kings’ blood, and I’ll drink to thee;
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If honor may dispense for thee with death,
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The never dying honor of this day
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Share wholly, Audley, to thyself, and live.
Audley
37 - 43
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Victorious Prince,—that thou art so, behold
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A Caesar’s fame in king’s captivity—
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If I could hold him death but at a bay,
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Till I did see my liege thy royal father,
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My soul should yield this castle of my flesh,
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This mangled tribute, with all willingness,
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To darkness, consummation, dust, and worms.
Prince Edward
44 - 49
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Cheerily, bold man, thy soul is all too proud
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To yield her city for one little breach;
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Should be divorced from her earthly spouse
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By the soft temper of a Frenchman’s sword?
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Lo, to repair thy life, I give to thee
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Three thousand marks a year in English land.
Audley
50 - 55
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I take thy gift, to pay the debts I owe:
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These two poor esquires redeemed me from the French
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With lusty and dear hazard of their lives:
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What thou hast given me, I give to them;
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And, as thou lovest me, prince, lay thy consent
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To this bequeath in my last testament.
Prince Edward
56 - 64
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Renowned Audley, live, and have from me
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This gift twice doubled to these esquires and thee:
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But live or die, what thou hast given away
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To these and theirs shall lasting freedom stay.
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Come, gentlemen, I will see my friend bestowed
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With in an easy litter; then we’ll march
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Proudly toward Callice, with triumphant pace,
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Unto my royal father, and there bring
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The tribute of my wars, fair France his king.
