Up,up,Artois!the ground it self is armed With Fire containing flint;command our bows To hurl away their pretty colored Ew,And to it with stones:away,Artois,away!
My soul doth prophecy we win the day.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE VII.The same.Another Part of the Field of Battle.
[Alarum.Enter King John.]
KING JOHN.
Our multitudes are in themselves confounded,Dismayed,and distraught;swift starting fear Hath buzzed a cold dismay through all our army,And every petty disadvantage prompts The fear possessed abject soul to fly.
My self,whose spirit is steel to their dull lead,What with recalling of the prophecy,And that our native stones from English arms Rebel against us,find myself attainted With strong surprise of weak and yielding fear.
[Enter Charles.]
CHARLES.
Fly,father,fly!the French do kill the French,Some that would stand let drive at some that fly;Our drums strike nothing but discouragement,Our trumpets sound dishonor and retire;The spirit of fear,that feareth nought but death,Cowardly works confusion on it self.
[Enter Phillip.]
PHILLIP.
Pluck out your eyes,and see not this day's shame!
An arm hath beat an army;one poor David Hath with a stone foiled twenty stout Goliahs;Some twenty naked starvelings with small flints,Hath driven back a puissant host of men,Arrayed and fenced in all accomplements.
KING JOHN.
Mordieu,they quait at us,and kill us up;
No less than forty thousand wicked elders Have forty lean slaves this day stoned to death.
CHARLES.
O,that I were some other countryman!
This day hath set derision on the French,And all the world will blurt and scorn at us.
KING JOHN.
What,is there no hope left?
PHILLIP.
No hope,but death,to bury up our shame.
KING JOHN.
Make up once more with me;the twentieth part Of those that live,are men inow to quail The feeble handful on the adverse part.
CHARLES.
Then charge again:if heaven be not opposed,We cannot lose the day.
KING JOHN.
On,away!
[Exeunt.]
SCENE VIII.The same.Another Part of the Field of Battle.
[Enter Audley,wounded,&rescued by two squires.]
ESQUIRE.
How fares my Lord?
AUDLEY.
Even as a man may do,That dines at such a bloody feast as this.
ESQUIRE.
I hope,my Lord,that is no mortal scar.
AUDLEY.
No matter,if it be;the count is cast,And,in the worst,ends but a mortal man.
Good friends,convey me to the princely Edward,That in the crimson bravery of my blood I may become him with saluting him.
I'll smile,and tell him,that this open scar Doth end the harvest of his Audley's war.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IX.The same.The English Camp.
[Enter prince Edward,King John,Charles,and all,with Ensigns spread.]
PRINCE EDWARD.
Now,John in France,&lately John of France,Thy bloody Ensigns are my captive colours;And you,high vaunting Charles of Normandy,That once to day sent me a horse to fly,Are now the subjects of my clemency.
Fie,Lords,is it not a shame that English boys,Whose early days are yet not worth a beard,Should in the bosom of your kingdom thus,One against twenty,beat you up together?
KING JOHN.
Thy fortune,not thy force,hath conquered us.
PRINCE EDWARD.
An argument that heaven aides the right.
[Enter Artois with Phillip.]
See,see,Artois doth bring with him along The late good counsel giver to my soul.
Welcome,Artois;and welcome,Phillip,too:
Who now of you or I have need to pray?
Now is the proverb verified in you,'Too bright a morning breeds a louring day.'
[Sound Trumpets.Enter Audley.]
But say,what grim discouragement comes here!
Alas,what thousand armed men of France Have writ that note of death in Audley's face?
Speak,thou that wooest death with thy careless smile,And lookst so merrily upon thy grave,As if thou were enamored on thine end:
What hungry sword hath so bereaved thy face,And lopped a true friend from my loving soul?
AUDLEY.
O Prince,thy sweet bemoaning speech to me Is as a mournful knell to one dead sick.
PRINCE EDWARD.
Dear Audley,if my tongue ring out thy end,My arms shall be thy grave:what may I do To win thy life,or to revenge thy death?
If thou wilt drink the blood of captive kings,Or that it were restorative,command A Health of kings'blood,and I'll drink to thee;If honor may dispense for thee with death,The never dying honor of this day Share wholly,Audley,to thy self,and live.
AUDLEY.
Victorious Prince,--that thou art so,behold A Caesar's fame in king's captivity--If I could hold him death but at a bay,Till I did see my liege thy royal father,My soul should yield this Castle of my flesh,This mangled tribute,with all willingness,To darkness,consummation,dust,and Worms.
PRINCE EDWARD.
Cheerily,bold man,thy soul is all too proud To yield her City for one little breach;Should be divorced from her earthly spouse By the soft temper of a French man's sword?
Lo,to repair thy life,I give to thee Three thousand Marks a year in English land.
AUDLEY.
I take thy gift,to pay the debts I owe:
These two poor Esquires redeemed me from the French With lusty &dear hazard of their lives:
What thou hast given me,I give to them;
And,as thou lovest me,prince,lay thy consent To this bequeath in my last testament.
PRINCE EDWARD.
Renowned Audley,live,and have from me This gift twice doubled to these Esquires and thee:
But live or die,what thou hast given away To these and theirs shall lasting freedom stay.
Come,gentlemen,I will see my friend bestowed With in an easy Litter;then we'll march Proudly toward Callis,with triumphant pace,Unto my royal father,and there bring The tribute of my wars,fair France his king.
[Exit.]
