Shakespeare's Kings (126 page)

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Authors: John Julius Norwich

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(I, i)
Unto our father-in-law, the Earl of Hainault:

Make him acquainted with our enterprise;

And likewise will him, with our own allies

That are in Flanders, to solicit to

The Emperor of Almaine in our name.

Myself, whilst you are joi
ntly
thus employ'd,

Will, with these forces that I have at hand,

March and once more repulse the trait'rous Scot.

But, sirs, be resolute; we shall have wars

On every side: and, Ned, thou must begin

Now to forget thy study and thy books

And ure thy shoulders to an armour's weight.

pr. ed
. As cheerful sounding to my youthful spleen

This tumult is of war's increasing broils,

As at the coronation of a king

The joyful clamours of the people are When,

'Ave, Caesar!' they pronounce aloud.

Within this school of honour I shall learn,

Either to sacrifice my foes to death

Or in a rightful quarrel spend my breath.

Then cheerfully forward, each a several way;

In great affairs 'tis naught to use delay.

Exeunt

scene
II

Roxborough. Before the Castle. Enter the Countess above.

[count
.] Alas, how much in vain my poor eyes gaze

For succour that my sovereign should send!

Ah, cousin Montague, I fear, thou want'st

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 to a Scot;

Either to be woo'd with broad untuned oaths,

Or forc'd by rough insulting barbarism:

Thou dost not tell him, if he here prevail,

How much they will deride us in the north;

And, in their wild, uncivil, skipping jigs,

Bray forth their conquest and our overthrow,

Even
in the barren, bleak, and fruitl
ess air.

Enter David and Douglas, Lorraine

I must withdraw; the everlasting foe

(I, ii)
Comes to the wall: I'll closely step aside,

And list their babble, blunt and full of pride.

k. dav
. My Lord of Lorraine, to our brother of France

Commend us, as the man in Christendom

Whom 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 neighbour towns, and so persist

With eager rods beyond their city York.

And never shall our bonny riders rest,

Nor rusting canker we have the time to eat

Their light-borne snaffles nor their nimble spurs;

Nor lay aside their jacks of gimmaled mail;

Nor hang their staves of grained Scottish ash

In peaceful wise upon their city walls;

Nor from their button'd 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

this
castle
; say, you came from us

Even when we had that yielded to our hands.

lor
. I take my leave, and fairly will return

Your acceptable greeting to my king.

Exit Lor.

K.
dav
. Now, Douglas, to our former task again,

For the division of this certain spoil.

doug
. My liege, I crave the lady, and no more.

k. dav
. Nay, soft ye, sir, first I must make my choice;

And first I do bespeak her for myself.

doug
. Why, then, my liege, let me enjoy her jewels.

k. dav
. Those are her own, still liable to her,

And, who inherits her, hath those withal.

Enter a Scot [as Messenger] in haste

mess
. My liege, as we were pricking on the hills,

To fetch in booty, marching hitherward

We might descry a mighty host of men;

The sun, reflecting on the armour, show'd

A field of plate, a wood of pikes advanc'd.

Bethink your highness speedily herein:

An easy march within four hours will bring

The hindmost rank unto this place, my liege.

k. dav
. Dislodge, dislodge, it is the King of England.

doug
. Jemmy my man, saddle my bonny black.

k.
dav
. Mean'st thou to fight, Douglas? We are too weak.

doug
. I know it well, my liege, and therefore fly.

. My lords of
Scotland
, will ye stay and drink?

k.
dav
. She mocks at us; Douglas, I can't endure it.

count
. 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 shar'd the spoils.

k.
dav
. She heard the messenger and heard our talk;

And now that comfort makes her scorn at us.

Another messenger

mess
. Arm, my good lord! O, we are all surpris'd!

count
. After the French ambassador, my liege,

And tell him that you dare not ride to York;

Excuse it, that your bonny horse is lame.

k.
dav
. She heard that too; intolerable grief! -

Woman, farewell: although I do not stay, -

Exeunt Scots

count
. Tis not for fear, and yet you run away.

-O happy comfort, welcome to our house!

The confident and boist'rous 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,

Turn'd hence again the blasting north-east wind

Upon the bare report and name of arms.

Enter Montague

O summer's day! see where my cousin comes.

mon
. How fares my aunt? we are not Scots;

Why do you shut your gates against your friends?

count
. Well may I give a welcome, cousin, to thee,

For thou com'st well to chase my foes from hence.

mon
. The king himself is come in person hither;

Dear aunt, descend, and gratulate his highness.

count
. How may I entertain his majesty,

To show my duty and his dignity?

Exit, from above

Enter King Edward, Warwick, Artois, with others

k.
ed
. What, are the stealing foxes fled and gone

Before we could uncouple at their heels?

(I, ii)
war
. They are, my liege; but, with a cheerful cry,

Hot hounds and hardy chase them at the heels.

Enter Countess

k. ed
. This is the countess, Warwick, is it not?

war
. Even she, my liege; whose beauty tyrant's fear,

As a May blossom with pernicious winds,

Hath sullied, wither'd overcast, and done.

k. ed
. Hath she been fairer, Warwick, than she is?

war
. My gracious king, fair is she not at all,

If that herself were by to stain herself,

As I have seen her when she was herself.

k. ed
. What strange enchantment lurk'd in those her eyes

When they excell'd this excellence they have,

That now her dim decline hath power to draw

My subject eyes from piercing majesty

To gaze on her with doting admiration?

count
. 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.

k. ed
. Lady, stand up: I come to bring thee peace,

However thereby I have purchas'd war.

count
. No war to you, my liege; the Scots are gone,

And gallop home toward
Scotland
with their hate.

[k. ed
] . Lest yielding here I pine in shameful love,

Come, we'll pursue the Scots; - Artois, away!

count
. A
little
while, my gracious sovereign, stay

And let the power of a mighty king

Honour 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.

k. ed
. Pardon me, countess, I will come not near;

I dream'd to-night of treason, and I fear.

count
. Far from this place let ugly treason lie!

k. ed
. 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,

(I, ii)
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!

count
. What might I speak, to make my sovereign stay?

k. ed
. What needs a tongue to such a speaking eye

That more persuades than winning oratory?

count
. 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 bounty's riches and fair hidden pride:

For, where the golden ore doth buried He,

The ground, undeck'ed with nature's tapestry,

Seems barren, sere, unfertile, fruidess, dry;

And where the upper turf of earth doth boast

His pride, perfumes and parti-colour'd cost,

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,

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