May better boast of than ever Roman might

Of her, whose ransacked treasury hath tasked

The vain endeavour of so many pens.

Arise, and be my fault thy honour’s fame

Which after-ages shall enrich thee with.

I am awakèd from this idle dream.

⌈The Countess stands⌉

(Calling) Warwick, my son, Derby, Artois and Audley—

Brave warriors all, where are you all this while?

Enter all the peers: the Earl of Warwick, the

Prince of Wales, the Earl of Derby, the Comte d’Artois and Lord Audley

Warwick, I make thee Warden of the North.

Thou, Prince of Wales, and Audley, straight to sea,

Scour to Newhaven—some there stay for me.

Myself, Artois and Derby will through Flanders

To greet our friends there and to crave their aid.

This night will scarce suffice me to discover

My folly’s siege against a faithful lover,

For ere the sun shall gild the eastern sky

We’ll wake him with our martial harmony.

Exeunt

Sc. 4 Enter Jean King of France, his two sons (the Dauphin and Prince Philippe) and the Duc de Lorraine

KING OF FRANCE

Here, till our navy of a thousand sail

Have made a breakfast to our foe by sea,

Let us encamp to wait their happy speed.

Lorraine, what readiness is Edward in?

How hast thou heard that he provided is

Of martial furniture for this exploit?

DUC DE LORRAINE

To lay aside unnecessary soothing,

And not to spend the time in circumstance,

’Tis bruited for a certainty, my lord,

That he’s exceeding strongly fortified.

His subjects flock as willingly to war

As if unto a triumph they were led.

DAUPHIN

England was wont to harbour malcontents,

Bloodthirsty and seditious Catilines,

Spendthrifts, and such as gape for nothing else

But change and alteration of the state.

And is it possible

That they are now so loyal in themselves?

DUC DE LORRAINE

All but the Scot, who solemnly protests,

As heretofore I have informed his grace,

Never to sheathe his sword or take a truce.

KING OF FRANCE

Ah, that’s the anch’rage of some better hope.

But on the other side, to think what friends

King Edward hath retained in Netherland,

Among those ever-bibbing epicures—

Those frothy Dutchmen, puffed with double beer,

That drink and swill in every place they come—

Doth not a little aggravate mine ire.

Besides, we hear the Emperor conjoins

And stalls him in his own authority.

But all the mightier that their number is

The greater glory reaps the victory!

Some friends have we beside domestic power—

The stern Polonian and the warlike Dane,

The King of Bohême, and of Sicily,

Are all become confederates with us

And, as I think, are marching hither apace—

Sound drums within

But soft, I hear the music of their drums,

By which I guess that their approach is near.

Enter ⌈at one door⌉ the King of Bohemia with Danish soldiers ⌈and a drummer⌉. Enter ⌈at another door⌉ a Polish captain with Muscovite and Polish soldiers ⌈and a drummer⌉

KING OF BOHEMIA

King Jean of France, as league and neighbourhood

Requires when friends are any way distressed,

I come to aid thee with my country’s force.

POLISH CAPTAIN (to the King of France)

And from great Moscow, fearful to the Turk,

And lofty Poland, nurse of hardy men,

I bring these servitors to fight for thee,

Who willingly will venture in thy cause.

KING OF FRANCE

Welcome, Bohemian king, and welcome all.

This your great kindness I will not forget.

Besides your plentiful rewards in crowns

That from our treasury ye shall receive,

There comes a harebrained nation, decked in pride,

The spoil of whom will be a treble gain.

And now my hope is full, my joy complete.

At sea we are as puissant as the force

Of Agamemnon in the haven of Troy.

By land, with Xerxes we compare of strength,

Whose soldiers drank up rivers in their thirst.

Then, Bayard-like, blind overweening Ned,

To reach at our imperial diadem

Is either to be swallowed of the waves,

Or hacked a-pieces when thou com’st ashore.

Enter a French Mariner

MARINER

Near to the coast I have descried, my lord,

As I was busy in my watchful charge,

The proud armada of King Edward’s ships,

Which, at the first far off when I did ken,

Seemed as it were a grove of withered pines,

But drawing near, their glorious bright aspect,

Their streaming ensigns wrought of coloured silk,

Like to a meadow full of sundry flowers,

Adorns the naked bosom of the earth.

Majestical the order of their course,

Figuring the hornèd circle of the moon,

And on the top gallant of the admiral,

And likewise all the handmaids of his train,

The arms of England and of France unite

Are quartered equally by herald’s art.