Exeunt

Sc. 6 Enter King Edward and the Earl of Derby with soldiers and Gobin de Grace

KING EDWARD

Where is the Frenchman by whose cunning guide

We found the shallow of this river Somme,

And had direction how to pass the sea?

GOBIN

Here, my good lord.

KING EDWARD

How art thou called? Tell me thy name.

GOBIN

Gobin de Grace, if please your excellence.

KING EDWARD

Then, Gobin, for the service thou hast done

We here enlarge and give thee liberty,

And for a recompense, beside this good,

Thou shalt receive five hundred marks in gold.

(To Derby) I know not how we should have missed our son,

Whom now in heart I wish I might behold.

Enter the Comte d’Artois

COMTE D’ARTOIS

Good news, my lord! The Prince is hard at hand,

And with him comes Lord Audley and the rest

Whom, since our landing, we could never meet.

Enter Edward Prince of Wales, Lord Audley and soldiers

KING EDWARD

Welcome, fair Prince. How hast thou sped, my son,

Since thy arrival on the coast of France?

PRINCE OF WALES

Successfully, I thank the gracious heavens.

Some of their strongest cities we have won—

As Harfleur, Lô, Crotoy and Carentan—

And others wasted, leaving at our heels

A wide, apparent field and beaten path

For solitariness to progress in.

Yet those that would submit we kindly pardoned,

For who in scorn refused our proffered peace

Endured the penalty of sharp revenge.

KING EDWARD

Ah, France, why shouldst thou be this obstinate

Against the kind embracement of thy friends?

How gently had we thought to touch thy breast

And set our foot upon thy tender mould,

But that in froward and disdainful pride

Thou, like a skittish and untamed colt,

Dost start aside and strike us with thy heels.

But tell me, Ned, in all thy warlike course

Hast thou not seen the usurping King of France?

PRINCE OF WALES

Yes, my good lord, and not two hours ago,

With full a hundred thousand fighting men

Upon the one side with the river’s bank,

And on the other, both his multitudes.

I feared he would have cropped our smaller power,

But happily, perceiving your approach,

He hath withdrawn himself to Crécy plains,

Where, as it seemeth by his good array,

He means to bid us battle presently.

KING EDWARD

He shall be welcome. That’s the thing we crave.

Enter Jean King of France, the Dauphin, the

Duc de Lorraine, the King of Bohemia, young

Prince Philippe and soldiers

KING OF FRANCE

Edward, know that Jean, the true King of France,

Musing thou shouldst encroach upon his land

And, in thy tyrannous proceeding, slay

His faithful subjects and subvert his towns,

Spits in thy face, and, in this manner following,

Upbraids thee with thine arrogant intrusion.

First, I condemn thee for a fugitive,

A thievish pirate and a needy mate,

One that hath either no abiding-place

Or else, inhabiting some barren soil,

Where neither herb or fruitful grain is had,

Dost altogether live by pilfering.

Next, insomuch thou hast infringed thy faith,

Broke league and solemn covenant made with me,

I hold thee for a false, pernicious wretch.

And last of all, although I scorn to cope

With one so much inferior to myself,

Yet in respect thy thirst is all for gold,

Thy labour rather to be feared than loved,

To satisfy thy lust, in either part,

Here am I come and with me have I brought

Exceeding store of treasure, pearl and coin.

Leave, therefore, now to persecute the weak,

And armed ent‘ring conflict with the armed,

Let it be seen, ’mongst other petty thefts,

How thou canst win this pillage manfully.

KING EDWARD

If gall or wormwood have a pleasant taste,

Then is thy salutation honey sweet.

But as the one hath no such property,

So is the other most satirical.

Yet wot how I regard thy worthless taunts.

If thou have uttered them to soil my fame,

Or dim the reputation of my birth,

Know that thy wolvish barking cannot hurt.

If slyly to insinuate with the world,

And with a strumpet’s artificial lime

To paint thy vicious and deformed cause,

Be well assured the counterfeit will fade,

And in the end thy foul defects be seen.

But if thou didst it to provoke me on,

As who should say I were but timorous,

Or, coldly negligent, did need a spur,

Bethink thyself how slack I was at sea,

How, since my landing, I have won no towns,

Entered no further but upon the coast,

And there have ever since securely slept.

But if I have been otherwise employed,

Imagine, Valois, whether I intend

To skirmish, not for pillage, but for the crown