Exit

Sc. 11 Enter the Dauphin and Villiers with a paper

DAUPHIN

I wonder, Villiers, thou shouldst importune me

For one that is our deadly enemy.

VILLIERS

Not for his sake, my gracious lord, so much

Am I become an earnest advocate

As that, thereby, my ransom will be quit.

DAUPHIN

Thy ransom, man? Why need’st thou talk of that?

Art thou not free? And are not all occasions

That happen for advantage of our foes

To be accepted of and stood upon?

VILLIERS

No, good my lord, except the same be just.

For profit must with honour be commixed,

Or else our actions are but scandalous.

But, letting pass these intricate objections,

Will’t please your highness to subscribe or no?

DAUPHIN

Villiers, I will not nor I cannot do it.

Salisbury shall not have his will so much

To claim a passport how it pleaseth him.

VILLIERS

Why then, I know the extremity, my lord.

I must return to prison, whence I came.

DAUPHIN Return? I hope thou wilt not!

What bird that hath escaped the fowler’s gin

Will not beware how she’s ensnared again?

Or what is he so senseless and secure

That, having hardly passed a dangerous gulf,

Will put himself in peril there again?

VILLIERS

Ah, but it is mine oath, my gracious lord,

Which I in conscience may not violate—

Or else a kingdom should not draw me hence.

DAUPHIN

Thine oath? Why, that doth bind thee to abide.

Hast thou not sworn obedience to thy Prince?

VILLIERS

In all things that uprightly he commands.

But either to persuade or threaten me

Not to perform the covenant of my word

Is lawless, and I need not to obey.

DAUPHIN

Why, is it lawful for a man to kill,

And not to break a promise with his foe?

VILLIERS

To kill, my lord, when war is once proclaimed,

So that our quarrel be for wrongs received,

No doubt is lawfully permitted us.

But in an oath, we must be well advised

How we do swear, and when we once have sworn,

Not to infringe it, though we die therefor.

Therefore, my lord, as willing I return

As if I were to fly to paradise.

He begins to leave

DAUPHIN

Stay, my Villiers. Thine honourable mind

Deserves to be eternally admired.

Thy suit shall be no longer thus deferred.

Give me the paper. I’ll subscribe to it.

Villiers gives him the paper, which the Dauphin signs

And wheretofore I loved thee as Villiers,

Hereafter I’ll embrace thee as myself.

Stay, and be still in favour with thy lord.

VILLIERS (receiving back the paper)

I humbly thank your grace. I must dispatch

And send this passport first unto the Earl,

And then I will attend your highness’ pleasure.

DAUPHIN

Do so, Villiers. And Charles, when he hath need,

Be such his soldiers, howsoever he speed.

Exit Villiers

Enter ⌉ean King of France

KING OF FRANCE

Come, Charles, and arm thee. Edward is entrapped.

The Prince of Wales is fall’n into our hands,

And we have compassed him. He cannot scape.

DAUPHIN

But will your highness fight today?

KING OF FRANCE

What else, my son? He’s scarce eight thousand strong,

And we are threescore thousand at the least.

DAUPHIN

I have a prophecy, my gracious lord,

Wherein is written what success is like

To happen us in this outrageous war.

It was delivered me at Crécy’s field

By one that is an aged hermit there:

‘When feathered fowl shall make thine army tremble,

And flintstones rise and break the battle ’ray,

Then think on him that doth not now dissemble,

For that shall be the hapless dreadful day,

Yet in the end thy foot thou shalt advance

As far in England as thy foe in France.’

KING OF FRANCE

By this it seems we shall be fortunate.

For, as it is impossible that stones

Should ever rise and break the battle ’ray,

Or airy fowl make men in arms to quake,

So is it like we shall not be subdued.

Or, say this might be true: yet in the end,

Since he doth promise we shall drive him hence

And scourge their country as they have done ours,

By this revenge that loss will seem the less.

But all are frivolous fancies, toys and dreams.

Once we are sure we have ensnared the son,

Catch we the father after how we can.

Exeunt

Sc. 12 Enter Edward Prince of Wales, Lord Audley and others

PRINCE OF WALES

Audley, the arms of death embrace us round

And comfort have we none, save that to die

We pay sour earnest for a sweeter life.

At Crécy field our clouds of warlike smoke

Choked up those French mouths and dissevered them,

But now their multitudes of millions hide,

Masking, as ’twere, the beauteous burning sun,

Leaving no hope to us but sullen dark

And eyeless terror of all-ending night.

AUDLEY

This sudden, mighty and expedient head

That they have made, fair Prince, is wonderful.

Before us, in the valley, lies the King,

Vantaged with all that heaven and earth can yield,