Enter King Iohn of Fraunce, his two sonnes, Charles of Normandie, and Phillip, and the Duke of Lorraine.

Heere till our Nauie of a thousand saile,

Haue made a breakfast to our foe by Sea,

Let vs incampe to wait their happie speede:

Lorraine what readines is Edward in?

How hast thou heard that he prouided is

Of marshiall furniture for this exployt.

To lay aside vnnecessary soothing,

And not to spend the time in circumstaunce,

Tis bruted for a certenty my Lord,

That hees exceeding strongly fortified,

His subiects flocke as willingly to warre,

As if vnto a tryumph they were led.

England was wont to harbour malcontents,

Blood thirsty, and seditious Catelynes,

Spend thrifts, and such as gape for nothing else,

But changing and alteration of the state,

And is it possible, / That they are now

so loyall in them selues?

All but the Scot, who sollemnly protests,

As heeretofore I haue enformd his grace,

Neuer to sheath his Sword, or take a truce.

Ah, thats the anchredge of some better hope,

But on the other side, to thinke what friends,

King Edward hath retaynd in Netherland,

Among those euer-bibbing Epicures:

Those frothy Dutch men, puft with double beere,

That drinke and swill in euery place they come,

Doth not a little aggrauate mine ire,

Besides we heare the Emperor conioynes,

And stalls him in his owne authoritie:

But all the mightier that their number is,

The greater glory reapes the victory,

Some friends haue we beside drum stricke power,

The sterne Polonian and the warlike Dane:

The king of Bohemia, and of Cycelie.

Are all become confederates with vs,

And as I thinke are marching hither apace,

But soft I heare the musicke of their drums.

By which I gesse that their approch is neare.

Enter the King of Bohemia with Danes, and a Polonian Captaine with other soldiers another way.

King Iohn of Fraunce, as league and neighborhood,

Requires when friends are any way distrest,

I come to aide thee with my countries force,

And from great Musco fearefull to the Turke,

And lofty Poland, nurse of hardie men,

I bring these seruitors to fightfor thee,

Who willingly will venture in thy cause.

Welcome Bohemian king, and welcome all,

This your great kindnesse I will not forget.

Besides your plentiful rewards in Crownes,

That from our Treasory ye shall receiue,

There comes a hare braind Nation deckt in pride,

The spoyle of whome wiil be a trebble game,

And now my hope is full, my ioy complete,

At Sea we are as puissant as the force;

Of Agamemnon in the Hauen of Troy:

By land with Zerxes we compare of strength,

Whose souldiers drancke vp riuers in their thirst:

Then Bayardlike, blinde ouerweaning Ned,

To reach at our imperiall dyadem,

Is either to be swallowed of the waues,

Or hackt a peeces when thou comest a shore.

Neere to the cost I haue discribde my Lord,

As I was busie in my watchfull charge.

The proud Armado of king Edwards ships,

Which at the first far off when I did ken,

Seemd as it were a groue of withered pines,

But drawing neere, their glorious bright aspect,

Their streaming Ensignes wrought of coulloured silke,

Like to a meddow full of sundry flowers,

Adornes the naked bosome of the earth.

Maiesticall the order of their course,

Figuring the horned Circle of the Moone,

And on the top gallant of the Admirall,

And likewise all the handmaides of his trayne:

The Armes of England and of Fraunce vnite,

Are quartred equally by Heralds art;

Thus titely carried with a merrie gale,

They plough the Ocean hitherward amayne:

Dare he already crop the Flewer de Luce:

I hope the hony being gathered thence,

He with the spider afterward approcht

Shall sucke forth deadly venom from the leaues,

But wheres out Nauy, how are they prepared,

To wing them selues against this flight of Rauens.

They hauing knowledge, brought them by the scouts,

Did breake from Anchor straight, and puft with rage,

No otherwise then were their sailes with winde,

Made forth, as when the empty Eagle flies,

To satifie his hungrie griping mawe.

Thees for thy newes, returne vnto thy barke,

And if thou scape the bloody strooke of warre,

And do suruiue the conflict, come againe,

And let vs heare the manner of the fight,

Meane space my Lords, tis best we be disperst,

To seuerall places least they chaunce to land:

First you my Lord, with your Bohemian Troupes,

Shall pitch your battailes on the lower hand,

My eldest sonne the Duke of Normandie,

Togeither with this aide of Muscouites,

Shall clyme the higher ground an other waye:

Heere in the middle cost betwixtyou both,

Phillip my yongest boy and I will lodge,

So Lords begon, and looke vnto your charge.

You stand for Fraunce, an Empire faire and large,

Exunt.

Now tell me Phillip, what is their concept,

Touching the challenge that the English make.

I say my Lord, clayme Edward what he can,

And bring he nere so playne a pedegree,

Tis you are in possession of the Crowne,

And thats the surest poynt of all the Law:

But were it not, yet ere he should preuaile,

Ile make a Conduit of my dearest blood,

Or chase those stragling vpstarts home againe,

Well said young Phillip, call for bread and Wine,

That we may cheere our stomacks with repast,

To looke our foes more sternely in the face.

The battell hard a farre off.

Now is begun the heauie day at Sea,

Fight Frenchmen, fight, be like the fielde of Beares,

When they defend their younglings in their Caues:

Stir angry Nemesis the happie helme,

That with the sulphur battels of your rage,

The English Fleete may be disperst and sunke,

O Father how this eckoing Cannon shot. Shot.

Like sweete hermonie disgests my cates.

Now boy thou hearest what thundring terror tis,

To buckle for a kingdomes souerentie,

The earth with giddie trembling when it shakes,

Or when the exalations of the aire,

Breakes in extremitie of lightning flash,

Affrights not more then kings when they dispose,

To shew the rancor of their high swolne harts,

Retreate.

Retreae is sounded, one side hath the worse,

O if it be the French, sweete fortune turne,

And in thy turning change the forward winds,

That with aduantage of a sauoring skie,

Our men may vanquish and thither flie.

My hart misgiues, say mirror of pale death,

To whome belongs the honor of this day,

Relate I pray thee, if thy breath will serue,

The sad discourse of this discomfiture.

I will my Lord.

My gratious soueraigne, Fraunce hath tane the foyle,

And boasting Edward triumphs with successe;

These Iron harted Nauies,

When last I was reporter to your grace,

Both full of angry spleene of hope and feare:

Hasting to meete each other in the face,

At last conioynd, and by their Admirall,

Our Admirall encountred manie shot,

By this the other that beheld these twaine,

Giue earnest peny of a further wracke,

Like fiery Dragons tooke their haughty flight,

And likewise meeting, from their smoky wombes,

Sent many grym Embassadors of death,

Then gan the day to turne to gloomy night,

And darkenes did aswel inclose the quicke,

As those that were but newly reft of life,

No leasure serud for friends to bid farewell,

And if it had, the hideous noise was such,

As ech to other seemed deafe and dombe,

Purple the Sea whose channel fild as fast,

With streaming gore that from the maymed fell,

As did her gushing moysture breake into,

Thecranny cleftures of the through shot planks,

Heere flew a head dissuuered from the tronke,

There mangled armes and legs were tost aloft,

As when a wherle winde takes the Summer dust,

And scatters it in midddle of the aire,

Then might ye see the reeling vessels split,

And tottering sink into the ruthlesse floud,

Vntill their lofty tops were seene no more.

All shifts were tried both for defence and hurt,

And now the effect of vallor and of force,

Of resolution and of a cowardize:

We liuely pictured, how the one for fame;

The other by compulsion laid about;

Much did the Nom per illa, that braue ship

So did the blacke snake of Bullen, then which

A bonnier vessel neuer yet spred sayle,

But all in vaine, both Sunne, the Wine and tyde,

Reuolted all vnto our foe mens side,

That we perforce were fayne to giue them way,

And they are landed, thus my tale is donne,

We haue vntimly lost, and they haue woone.

Then rests there nothing but with present speede,

To ioyne our seueral forces al in one,

And bid them battaile ere they rainge to farre,

Come gentle Phillip, let vs hence depart,

This souldiers words haue perst thy fathers hart.

Wel met my masters: how now, whats the newes,

And wherefore are ye laden thus with stuffe:

What is it quarter daie that you remoue,

And carrie bag and baggage too?

Quarter day, I and quartering pay I feare:

Haue we not heard the newes that flies abroad?

What newes?

How the French Nauy is destroyd at Sea,

And that the English Armie is arriued.

What then?

What then quoth you? why ist not time to flie,

When enuie and destruction is so nigh,

Content thee man, they are farre enough from hence,

And will be met I warrant ye to their cost,

Before they breake so far into the Realme.

I so the Grashopper doth spend the time,

In mirthfull iollitie till Winter come,

And then too late he would redeeme his time,

When frozen cold hath nipt his carelesse head:

He that no sooner will prouide a Cloake,

Then when he sees it doth begin to raigne,

May peraduenture for his negilgence,

Be throughly washed when he suspects it not,

We that haue charge, and such a trayne as this,

Must looke in time, to looke for them and vs,

Least when we would, we cannot be relieued.

Be like you then dispaire of ill successe,

And thinke your Country will be subiugate.

We cannot tell, tis good to feare the worst.

Yet rather fight, then like vnnaturall sonnes,

For sake your louing parents in distresse.

Tush they that haue already taken armes,

Are manie fearefull millions in respect

Of that small handfull of our enimies:

But tis a rightfull quarrell must preuaile,

Edward is sonnne vnto our late kings sister,

Where Iohn Valoys, is three degrees remoued.

Besides, there goes a Prophesie abroad,

Published by one that was a Fryer once,

Whose Oracles haue many times prooued true,

And now he sayes the tyme will shortly come,

When as a Lyon rowsed in the west,

Shall carie hence the fluerdeluce of France,

These I can tell yee and such like surmises,

Strike many french men cold vnto the heart:

Flie cuntry men and cytizens of France,

Sweete flowring peace the roote of happie life,

Is quite abandoned and expulst the lande,

In sted of whome ransackt constraining warre,

Syts like to Rauens vppon your houses topps,

Slaughter and mischiefe walke within your streets.

And vnrestrained make hauock as they passe,

The forme whereof euen now my selfe beheld,

Vpon this faire mountaine whence I came,

For so far of as I directed mine eies,

I might perceaue fiue Cities all on fire,

Corne fieldes and vineyards burning like an ouen,

And as the leaking vapour in the wind,

I tourned but a side I like wise might disserne.

The poore inhabitants escapt the flame,

Fall numberles vpon the souldiers pikes,

Three waies these dredfull ministers of wrath,

Do tread the measuers of their tragicke march,

Vpon the right hand comes the conquering King,

Vpon the lefte is hot vnbridled sonne,

And in the midst our nations glittering hoast,

All which though distant yet conspire in one,

To leaue a desolation where they come,

Flie therefore Citizens if you be wise,

Seeke out som habitation further of,

Here if you staie your wiues will be abused,

Your treasure sharde before your weeping eies,

Shelter you your selues for now the storme doth rise,

Away, away, me thinks I heare their drums,

Ah wreched France, I greatly feare thy fal,

Thy glory shaketh like a tottering wall.

Enter King Edward and the Erle of Darby With Souldiors, and Gobin de Graie.

Wheres the French man by whose cunning guide,

We found the shalow of this Riuer Sone,

And had direction how to passe the sea.

Here my good Lord.

How art thou calde, tell me thy name.

Gobin de Graie if please your excellence,

Then Gobin for the seruice thou hast done,

We here inlarge and giue thee liberty,

And for recompenc beside this good,

Thou shalt receiue fiue hundred markes in golde,

I know not how we should haue met our sonne,

Whom now in heart I wish I might behold.

Good newes my Lord the prince is hard at hand,

And with him comes Lord Awdley and the rest,

Whome since our landing we could neuer meet.

Welcome faire Prince, how hast thou sped my sonne,

Since thy arriuall on the coaste of Fraunce?

Succesfullie I thanke the gratious heauens,

Some of their strongest Cities we haue wonne,

As Harslen, Lie, Crotag, and Carentigne,

And others wasted, leauing at our heeles,

A wide apparant feild and beaten path,

For sollitarines to progresse in,

Yet those that would submit we kindly pardned,

For who in scorne refused our poffered peace,

Indurde the penaltie of sharpe reuenge.

Ah Fraunce, why shouldest thou be this obstinate,

Agaynst the kind imbracement of thy friends,

How gently had we thought to touch thy brest,

And set our foot vpon thy tender mould,

But that in froward and disdainfull pride

Thou like a skittish and vntamed coult,

Dost start aside and strike vs with thy heeles,

But tel me Ned, in all thy warlike course,

Hast thou not seene the vsurping King of Fraunce.

Yes my good Lord, and not two owers ago,

With full a hundred thousand fighting men,

Vppon the one side with the riuers banke,

And on the other both his multitudes,

I feard he would haue cropt our smaller power,

But happily perceiuing your approch,

He hath with drawen himselfe to Cressey plaines,

Where as it seemeth by his good araie.

He meanes to byd vs battaile presently,

He shall be welcome thats the thing we craue.

Enter King Iohn, Dukes of Normanndy and Lorraine, King of Boheme, yong Phillip, and Souldiers.

Edward know that Iohn the true king of Fraunce,

Musing thou shouldst incroach vppon his land,

And in thy tyranous proceeding slay,

His faithfull subiects, and subuert his Townes,

Spits in thy face, and in this manner folowing,

Obraids thee with thine arrogant intrusion,

First I condeme thee for a fugitiue,

A theeuish pyrate, and a needie mate,

One that hath either no abyding place,

Or else inhabiting some barraine soile,

Where neither hearb or frutfull graine is had,

Doest altogether liue by pilfering,

Next, insomuch thou hast infringed thy faith,

Broke leage and solemne couenant made with mee,

I hould thee for a false pernitious wretch,

And last of all, although I scorne to cope

With one such inferior to my selfe,

Yet in respect thy thirst is all for golde,

They labour rather to be feared then loued,

To satisfie thy lust in either parte

Heere am I come and with me haue I brought,

Exceding store of treasure, perle, and coyne,

Leaue therfore now to persecute the weake,

And armed entring conflict with the armd,

Let it be seene mongest other pettie thefts,

How thou canst win this pillage manfully.

If gall or worm wood haue a pleasant tast,

Then is thy sallutation hony sweete,

But as the one hath no such propertie,

So is the other most satiricall:

Yet wot how I regarde thy worthles tants,

If thou haue vttred them to foile my fame,

Or dym the reputation of my birth,

Know that thy woluish barking cannot hurt,

If slylie to insinuate with the worlde,

And with a strumpets artifitiall line,

To painte thy vitious and deformed cause,

Bee well assured the counterfeit will fade,

And in the end thy fowle defects be seene,

But if thou didst it to prouoke me on,

As who should saie I were but timerous,

Or coldly negligent did need a spurre,

Bethinke thy selfe howe slacke I was at sea.

Now since my landing I haue wonn no townes,

Entered no further but vpon the coast,

And there haue euer since securelie slept,

But if I haue bin other wise imployd,

Imagin Valoys whether I intende

Toskirmish, not for pillage but for the Crowne,

Which thou dost weare and that I vowe to haue,

Or one of vs shall fall in to this graue,

Looke not for crosse inuectiues at our hands,

Or rayling execrations of despight,

Let creeping serpents hide in hollow banckes,

Sting with theyr tongues; we haue remorseles swordes,

And they shall pleade for vs and our affaires,

Yet thus much breefly by my fathers leaue,

As all the immodest poyson of thy throat,

Is scandalous and most notorious lyes,

And our pretended quarell is truly iust,

So end the battaile when we meet to daie,

May eyther of vs prosper and preuaile,

Or luckles curst, receue eternall shame.

That needs no further question, and I knowe

His conscience witnesseth it is my right,

Therfore Valoys say, wilt thou yet resigne,

Before the sickles thrust into the Corne,

Or that inkindled fury, turne to flame:

Edward I know what right thou hast in France,

And ere I basely will resigne my Crowne,

This Champion field shallbe a poole of bloode,

And all our prospect as a slaughter house,

I that approues thee tyrant what thou art,

No father, king, or shepheard of thy realme,

But one that teares her entrailes with thy handes,

And like a thirstie tyger suckst her bloud.

You peeres of France, why do you follow him,

That is so prodigall to spend your liues?

Whom should they follow, aged impotent,

But he that is their true borne soueraigne?

Obraidst thou him, because within his face,

Time hath ingraud deep caracters of age:

Know that these graue schollers of experience,

Like stiffe growen oakes, will stand immouable,

When whirle wind quickly turnes vp yonger trees.

Was euer anie of thy fathers house

king, / But thyselfe, before this present time,

Edwards great linage by the mothers side,

Fiue hundred yeeres hath helde the scepter vp,

Iudge then conspiratours by this descent,

Which is the true borne soueraigne this or that.

Father range your battailes, prate no more,

These English faine would spend the time in wodrs,

That night approching, they might escape vnfought.

Lords and my louing Subiects knowes the time,

That your intended force must bide the touch,

Therfore my frinds consider this in breefe,

He that you fight for is your naturall King,

He against whom you fight a forrener:

He that you fight for rules in clemencie,

And raines you with a mild and gentle byt,

He against whome you fight if hee preuaile,

Will straight inthrone himselfe in tyrranie,

Make slaues of you, and with a heauie hand

Curtall and courb your swetest libertie.

Then to protect your Country and your King,

Let but the haughty Courrage of your hartes,

Answere the number of your able handes,

And we shall quicklie chase theis fugitiues,

For whats this Edward but a belly god,

A tender and lasciuious wantonnes,

That thother daie was almost dead for loue,

And what I praie you is his goodly gard,

Such as but scant them of their chines of beefe,

And take awaie their downie featherbedes,

And presently they are as resty stiffe,

As twere a many ouer ridden iades,

Then French men scorne that such should be your Lords

And rather bind ye them in captiue bands,

Viue le Roy, God saue King Iohn of France.

Now on this plaine of Cressie spred your selues,

And Edward when thou darest, begin the fight:

We presently wil meet thee Iohn of Fraunce,

And English Lordes let vs resolue the daie,

Either to cleere vs of that scandalous cryme,

Or be intombed in our innocence,

And Ned, because this battell is the first,

That euer yet thou foughtest in pitched field,

As ancient custome is of Martialists,

To dub thee with the tipe of chiualrie,

In solemne manner wee will giue thee armes,

Come therefore Heralds, orderly bring forth,

A strong attirement for the prince my sonne.

Enter foure Heraldes bringing in a coate armour, a helmet, a lance, and a shield.

Edward Plantagenet, in the name of God,

As with this armour I impall thy breast,

So be thy noble vnrelenting heart,

Wald in with flint of matchlesse fortitude,

That neuer base affections enter there,

Fight and be valiant, conquere where thou comst,

Now follow Lords, and do him honor to.

Edward Plantagenet prince of Wales,

As I do set this helmet on thy head,

Wherewith the chamber of this braine is fenst,

So may thy temples with Bellonas hand,

Be still adornd with lawrell victorie,

Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou comst.

Edward Plantagenet prince of Wales,

Receiue this lance into thy manly hand,

Vse it in fashion of a brasen pen,

To drawe forth bloudie stratagems in France,

And print thy valiant deeds in honors booke,

Fight and be valiant, vanquish where thou comst.

Edward Plantagener prince of Wales,

Hold take this target, weare it on thy arme,

And may the view there of like Perseus shield,

Astonish and transforme thy gazing foes

To senselesse images of meger death,

Fight and be valiant, couquer where thou comst.

Now wants there nought but knighthood, which deferd

Wee leaue till thou hast won it in the fielde,

My gratious father and yee forwarde peeres,

This honor you haue done me animates,

And chears my greene yet scarse appearing strength,

With comfortable good persaging signes,

No other wise then did ould Iacobes wordes,

When as he breathed his blessings on his sonnes,

These hallowed giftes of yours when I prophane,

Or vse them not to glory of my God,

To patronage the fatherles and poore,

Or for the benefite of Englands peace,

Be numbe my ioynts, waxe feeble both mine armes,

Wither my hart that like a saples tree,

I may remayne the map of infamy,

Then this our steelde Battailes shall be rainged,

The leading of the vowarde Ned is thyne,

To dignifie whose lusty spirit the more

We temper it with Audlys grauitie,

That courage and experience ioynd in one,

Your manage may be second vnto none,

For the mayne battells I will guide my selfe,

And Darby in the rereward march behind,

That orderly disposd and set in ray,

Let vs to horse and God graunt vs the daye.

Alarum. Enter a many French men flying. After them Prince Edward runing. Then enter King Iohn and Duke of Loraine.

Oh Lorrain say, what meane our men to fly,

Our nomber is far greater then our foes,

The garrison of Genoaes my Lorde,

That cam from Paris weary with their march,

Grudging to be soddenly imployd,

No sooner in the forefront tooke their place.

But straite retyring so dismaide the rest,

As likewise they betook themselues to flight

In which for hast to make a safe escape,

More in the clustering throng are prest to death,

Then by the ennimie a thousand fold.

O haplesse fortune, let vs yet assay,

If we can counsell some of them to stay.

Enter King Edward and Audley.

Lord Audley, whiles our sonne is in the chase,

With draw our powers vnto this little hill,

And heere a season let vs breath our selues,

I will my Lord.

Exit,

Iust dooming heauen, whose secret prouidence,

To our grosse iudgement is inscrutable,

How are we bound to praise thy wondrous works,

That hast this day giuen way vnto the right,

And made the wicked stumble at them selues.

Enter Artoys.

Rescue king Edward, rescue, for thy sonne,

Rescue Artoys, what is he prisoner?

Or by violence fell beside his horse.

Neither my Lord, but narrowly beset,

With turning Frenchmen, whom he did persue,

As tis impossible that he should scape.

Except your highnes presently descend.

Tut let him fight, we gaue him armes to day,

And he is laboring for a knighthood man.

The Prince my Lord, the Prince, oh succour him,

Hees close incompast with a world of odds.

Then will he win a world of honor to,

If he by vallour can redeeme him thence,

If not, what remedy, we haue more sonnes,

Then one to comfort our declyning age.

Au, Renowned Edward, giue me leaue I pray,

To lead my souldiers where I may releeue,

Your Graces sonne, in danger to be slayne,

The snares of French, like Emmets on a banke,

Muster about him whilest he Lion like,

Intangled in the net of their assaults,

Frantiquely wrends and byts the wouen toyle,

But all in vaine, he cannot free him selfe.

Audley content, I will not haue a man,

On paine of death sent forth to succour him:

This is the day, ordaynd by desteny,

To season his courage with those greeuous thoughts,

That if he breaketh out, Nestors yeares on earth,

Will make him sauor still of this exployt.

Ah but he shall not liue to see those dayes,

Why then his Ephitaph, is lasting prayse.

Yet good my Lord, tis too much wilfulnes,

To let his blood be spilt that may be saude,

Exclayme no more, for none of you can tell,

Whether a borrowed aid will serue or no,

Perhapps he is already slayne or tane:

And dare a Falcon when shees in her flight,

And euer after sheele be huggard like:

Let Edward be deliuered by our hands,

And still in danger hele expect the like,

But if himselfe, himselfe redeeme from thence,

He wil haue vanquisht cheerefull death and feare,

And euer after dread their force no more,

Then if they were but babes or Captiue slaues.

O cruell Father, farewell Edward then.

Farewell sweete Prince, the hope of chiualry,

O would my life might ransome him from death.

But soft me thinkes I heare,

The dismall charge of Trumpets loud retreat:

All are not slayne I hope that went with him,

Some will returne with tidings good or bad.

Enter Prince Edward in tryumph, bearing in his hande his shiuered Launce, and the King of Boheme, borne before, wrapt in the Coullours: They runne and imbrace him.

O ioyfull sight, victorious Edward liues.

Welcome braue Prince.

Welcome Plantagenet.

kneele and kisse his fathers hand

First hauing donne my duety as beseemed

Lords I regreet you all with harty thanks,

And now behold after my winters toyle,

My paynefull voyage on the boystrous sea,

Of warres deuouring gulphes and steely rocks,

I bring my fraught vnto the wished port,

My Summers hope, my trauels sweet reward:

And heere with humble duety I present,

This sacrifice, this first fruit of my sword,

Cropt and cut downe euen at the gate of death:

The king of Boheme father whome Islue,

Whom you sayd, had intrencht me round about,

And laye as thicke vpon my battered crest,

As on an Anuell with their ponderous glaues,

Yet marble courage, still did vnderprop,

And when my weary armes with often blowes,

Like the continuall laboring Wood-mans Axe,

That is enioynd to fell a load of Oakes,

Began to faulter, straight I would recouer:

My gifts you gaue me, and my zealous vow,

And then new courage made me fresh againe,

That in despight I craud my passage forth,

And put the multitude to speedy flyght:

Lo this hath Edwards hand fild your request,

And done I hope the duety of a Knight

I well thou hast deserud a knight-hood Ned,

And therefore with thy sword, yet reaking warme,

his Sword borne by a Soldier.

With blood of those that fought to be thy bane,

Arise Prince Edward, trusty knight at armes,

This day thou hast confounded me with ioy,

And proude thy selfe fit heire vnto a king:

Heere is a note my gratious Lord of those,

That in this conflict of our foes were slaine,

Eleuen Princes of esteeme, Foure score Barons,

A hundred and twenty knights, and thirty thousand

Common souldiers, and of our men a thousand.

Our God be praised, Now Iohn of Fraunce I hope,

Thou knowest King Edward for no wantonesse,

No loue sicke cockney, nor his souldiers iades,

But which way is the fearefull king escapt?

Towards Poyctiers noble father, and his sonnes,

Ned, thou and Audley shall pursue them still,

Myselfe and Derby will to Calice streight;

And there begyrt that Hauen towne with seege:

Now lies it on an vpshot, therefore strike,

And wistlie follow whiles the games on foote.

Ki. What Pictures this.

A Pellican my Lord,

Wounding her bosome with her crooked beak,

That so her nest of young ones might be fed,

With drops of blood that issue from her hart,

The motto Sic & vos, and so should you,

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?

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.

England was wont to harbour malcontents,

Bloodthirsty and seditious Catilines,

Spendthrifts, and such that gape for nothing else

But changing and alteration of the state.

And is it possible that they are now

So loyal in themselves?

All but the Scot, who solemnly protests,

As heretofore I have informed his grace,

Never to sheathe his sword or take a truce.

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 the 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 Bohemia and of Sicily,

Are all become confederates with us,

And, as I think, are marching hither apace.

But soft, I hear the music of their drums,

By which I guess that their approach is near.

King John of France, as league and neighbourhood

Requires, when friends are any way distressed,

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

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.

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 hare-brained 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 comest ashore.

Near to the coast I have descried, my lord,

As I was busy in my watchful charge,

The proud armado 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 horned 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.

Thus, titely carried with a merry gale,

They plough the ocean hitherward amain.

Dare he already crop the fleur-de-lis?

I hope, the honey being gathered thence,

He, with the spider afterward approached,

Shall suck forth deadly venom from the leaves. –

But where's our navy? How are they prepared

To wing themselves against this flight of ravens?

They, having knowledge brought them by the scouts,

Did break from anchor straight, and, puffed with rage

No otherwise then were their sails with wind,

Made forth, as when the empty eagle flies

To satisfy his hungry griping maw.

There's for thy news. Return unto thy bark;

And if thou scape the bloody stroke of war

And do survive the conflict, come again,

And let us hear the manner of the fight.

Mean space, my lords, 'tis best we be dispersed

To several places, least they chance to land.

First you, my lord, with your Bohemian troops,

Shall pitch your battles on the lower hand;

My eldest son, the Duke of Normandy,

Together with this aid of Muscovites,

Shall climb the higher ground another way;

Here in the middle coast, betwixt you both,

Philip my youngest boy and I will lodge.

So, lords, be gone, and look unto your charge:

You stand for France, an empire fair and large.

Now tell me, Philip, what is thy conceit,

Touching the challenge that the English make.

I say, my Lord, claim Edward what he can,

And bring he ne'er so plain a pedigree,

'Tis you are in the possession of the crown,

And that's the surest point of all the law;

But were it not, yet ere he should prevail,

I'll make a conduit of my dearest blood,

Or chase those straggling upstarts home again.

Well said, young Philip! Call for bread and wine,

That we may cheer our stomachs with repast,

To look our foes more sternly in the face.

Now is begun the heavy day at sea.

Fight, Frenchmen, fight; be like the field of bears

When they defend their younglings in their caves.

Steer, angry Nemesis, the happy helm,

That with the sulphur battles of your rage

The English fleet may be dispersed and sunk.

O father, how this echoing cannon shot,

Like sweet harmony, disgests my cates!

Now, boy, thou hear'st what thund'ring terror 'tis

To buckle for a kingdom's sovereignty.

The earth, with giddy trembling when it shakes,

Or when the exhalations of the air

Breaks in extremity of lightning flash,

Affrights not more than kings when they dispose

To show the rancour of their high-swoll'n hearts.

Retreat is sounded; one side hath the worse.

O, if it be the French, sweet Fortune, turn,

And in thy turning change the froward winds,

That, with advantage of a favouring sky,

Our men may vanquish, and the other fly!

My heart misgives. – Say, mirror of pale death,

To whom belongs the honour of this day.

Relate, I pray thee, if thy breath will serve,

The sad discourse of this discomfiture.

I will, my lord.

My gracious sovereign, France hath ta'en the foil,

And boasting Edward triumphs with success.

These iron-hearted navies,

When last I was reporter to your grace,

Both full of angry spleen, of hope, and fear,

Hasting to meet each other in the face,

At last conjoined, and by their admiral

Our admiral encountered many shot.

By this, the other, that beheld these twain

Give earnest penny of a further wrack,

Like fiery dragons took their haughty flight,

And, likewise meeting, from their smoky wombs

Sent many grim ambassadors of death.

Then 'gan the day to turn to gloomy night,

And darkness did as well enclose the quick

As those that were but newly reft of life.

No leisure served for friends to bid farewell;

And, if it had, the hideous noise was such

As each to other seemed deaf and dumb.

Purple the sea, whose channel filled as fast

With streaming gore that from the maimed fell

As did the gushing moisture break into

The crannied cleftures of the through-shot planks.

Here flew a head dissevered from the trunk,

There mangled arms and legs were tossed aloft,

As when a whirlwind takes the summer dust

And scatters it in middle of the air.

Then might ye see the reeling vessels split,

And tottering sink into the ruthless flood,

Until their lofty tops were seen no more.

All shifts were tried, both for defence and hurt;

And now the effect of valour and of force,

Of resolution and of cowardice,

Were lively pictured: how the one for fame,

The other by compulsion laid about.

Much did the Nonpareille, that brave ship;

So did the Black Snake of Boulogne, than which

A bonnier vessel never yet spread sail;

But all in vain. Both sun, the wind, and tide

Revolted all unto our foemen's side,

That we perforce were fain to give them way,

And they are landed. – Thus my tale is done:

We have untimely lost, and they have won.

Then rests there nothing but with present speed

To join our several forces all in one,

And bid them battle ere they range too far.

Come, gentle Philip, let us hence depart.

This soldier's words have pierced thy father's heart.

Well met, my masters. How now, what's the news,

And wherefore are ye laden thus with stuff?

What, is it quarter day that you remove,

And carry bag and baggage too?

Quarter day? Ay, and quartering day, I fear.

Have ye not heard the news that flies abroad?

What news?

How the French navy is destroyed at sea,

And that the English army is arrived.

What then?

What then, quoth you? Why, is't not time to fly,

When envy and destruction is so nigh?

Content thee, man; they are far enough from hence,

And will be met, I warrant ye, to their cost,

Before they break so far into the realm.

Ay, so the grasshopper doth spend the time

In mirthful jollity till winter come,

And then too late he would redeem his time,

When frozen cold hath nipped his careless head.

He that no sooner will provide a cloak

Than when he sees it doth begin to rain

May, peradventure, for his negligence,

Be throughly washed when he suspects it not.

We that have charge and such a train as this

Must look in time to look for them and us,

Lest, when we would, we cannot be relieved.

Belike you then despair of ill success,

And think your country will be subjugate.

We cannot tell; 'tis good to fear the worst.

Yet rather fight than, like unnatural sons,

Forsake your loving parents in distress.

Tush, they that have already taken arms

Are many fearful millions, in respect

Of that small handful of our enemies.

But 'tis a rightful quarrel must prevail:

Edward is son unto our late king's sister,

Where John Valois is three degrees removed.

Besides, there goes a prophecy abroad,

Published by one that was a friar once,

Whose oracles have many times proved true;

And now he says, the time will shortly come

Whenas a lion roused in the west

Shall carry hence the fleur-de-lis of France.

These, I can tell ye, and such like surmises

Strike many Frenchmen cold unto the heart.

Fly, countrymen and citizens of France!

Sweet flow'ring peace, the root of happy life,

Is quite abandoned and expulsed the land;

Instead of whom, ransack-constraining war

Sits like to ravens upon your houses' tops;

Slaughter and mischief walk within your streets,

And unrestrained make havoc as they pass,

The form whereof even now myself beheld

Upon this fair mountain whence I came.

For so far off as I direct'd mine eyes,

I might perceive five cities all on fire,

Cornfields and vineyards burning like an oven;

And as the leaking vapour in the wind

Turned but aside, I likewise might discern

The poor inhabitants, escaped the flame,

Fall numberless upon the soldiers' pikes.

Three ways these dreadful ministers of wrath

Do tread the measures of their tragic march:

Upon the right hand comes the conquering King,

Upon the left his hot unbridled son,

And in the midst our nation's glittering host;

All which, though distant, yet conspire in one

To leave a desolation where they come.

Fly therefore, citizens, if you be wise,

Seek out some habitation further off.

Here, if you stay, your wives will be abused,

Your treasure shared before your weeping eyes.

Shelter yourselves, for now the storm doth rise.

Away, away! Methinks I hear their drums. –

Ah, wretched France, I greatly fear thy fall:

Thy glory shaketh like a tottering wall.

Where's the Frenchman by whose cunning guide

We found the shallow of this River Somme,

And had direction how to pass the sea?

Here, my good lord.

How art thou called? Tell me thy name.

Gobin de Grace, if please your excellence.

Then, Gobin, for the service thou hast done,

We here enlarge and give thee liberty;

And, for recompense beside this good,

Thou shalt receive five hundred marks in gold. –

I know not how we should have met our son,

Whom now in heart I wish I might behold.

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.

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

Since thy arrival on the coast of France?

Successfully, I thank the gracious heavens.

Some of their strongest cities we have won,

As Barfleur, Lo, 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.

Ah, France, why should'st 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?

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

With full a hundred thousand fighting men

Upon the one side of 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.

He shall be welcome; that's the thing we crave.

Edward, know that John, 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.

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 foil 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 line

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 thy 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

Which thou dost wear, and that I vow to have,

Or one of us shall fall into his grave.

Look not for cross invectives at our hands,

Or railing execrations of despite.

Let creeping serpents, hid in hollow banks,

Sting with their tongues; we have remorseless swords,

And they shall plead for us and our affairs.

Yet thus much, briefly, by my father's leave:

As all the immodest poison of thy throat

Is scandalous and most notorious lies,

And our pretended quarrel is truly just,

So end the battle when we meet today:

May either of us prosper and prevail,

Or, luckless, cursed, receive eternal shame!

That needs no further question; and I know

His conscience witnesseth it is my right.

Therefore, Valois, say, wilt thou yet resign,

Before the sickle's thrust into the corn

Or that enkindled fury turn to flame?

Edward, I know what right thou hast in France;

And ere I basely will resign my crown

This champion field shall be a pool of blood,

And all our prospect as a slaughter-house.

Ay, that approves thee, tyrant, what thou art:

No father, king, or shepherd of thy realm,

But one, that tears her entrails with thy hands,

And, like a thirsty tiger, suck'st her blood.

You peers of France, why do you follow him

That is so prodigal to spend your lives?

Whom should they follow, aged impotent,

But he that is their true-born sovereign?

Upbraid'st thou him, because within his face

Time hath engraved deep characters of age?

Know that these grave scholars of experience,

Like stiff-grown oaks, will stand immovable

When whirlwind quickly turns up younger trees.

Was ever any of thy father's house

King, but thyself, before this present time?

Edward's great lineage, by the mother's side,

Five hundred years has held the sceptre up.

Judge then, conspirators, by this descent,

Which is the true-born sovereign, this, or that.

Father, range your battles, prate no more.

These English fain would spend the time in words,

That, night approaching, they might escape unfought.

Lords and my loving subjects, now's the time

That your intended force must bide the touch.

Therefore, my friends, consider this in brief:

He that you fight for is your natural king,

He against whom you fight, a foreigner;

He that you fight for, rules in clemency,

And reins you with a mild and gentle bit;

He against whom you fight, if he prevail,

Will straight enthrone himself in tyranny,

Makes slaves of you, and with a heavy hand

Curtail and curb your sweetest liberty.

Then, to protect your country and your king,

Let but the haughty courage of your hearts

Answer the number of your able hands,

And we shall quickly chase these fugitives.

For what's this Edward but a belly god ,

A tender and lascivious wantonness,

That th' other day was almost dead for love?

And what, I pray you, is his goodly guard?

Such as, but scant them of their chines of beef,

And take away their downy feather-beds,

And presently they are as resty-stiff

As 'twere a many overridden jades.

Then, Frenchmen, scorn that such should be your lords,

And rather bind ye them in captive bands.

Vive le roi! God save King John of France!

Now on this plain of Crécy spread yourselves –

And, Edward, when thou dar'st, begin the fight.

We presently will meet thee, John of France. –

And, English lords, let us resolve the day,

Either to clear us of that scandalous crime,

Or be entombed in our innocence.

And, Ned, because this battle is the first

That ever yet thou fought'st in pitched field,

As ancient custom is of martialists,

To dub thee with the type of chivalry,

In solemn manner we will give thee arms.

Come, therefore, heralds, orderly bring forth

A strong attirement for the Prince my son.

Edward Plantagenet, in the name of God,

As with this armour I impall thy breast,

So be thy noble unrelenting heart

Walled in with flint and matchless fortitude,

That never base affections enter there.

Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st! –

Now follow, lords, and do him honour too.

Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,

As I do set this helmet on thy head,

Wherewith the chamber of thy brain is fenced,

So may thy temples, with Bellona's hand,

Be still adorned with laurel victory.

Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st!

Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,

Receive this lance into thy manly hand;

Use it in fashion of a brazen pen

To draw forth bloody stratagems in France

And print thy valiant deeds in honour's book.

Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st!

Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales,

Hold, take this target, wear it on thy arm,

And may the view thereof, like Perseus' shield,

Astonish and transform thy gazing foes

To senseless images of meagre death.

Fight and be valiant, conquer where thou com'st!

Now wants there nought but knighthood, which deferred

We leave till thou hast won it in the field.

My gracious father, and ye forward peers,

This honour you have done me animates

And cheers my green yet scarce-appearing strength

With comfortable good-presaging signs,

No otherwise than did old Jacob's words,

Whenas he breathed his blessings on his sons.

These hallowed gifts of yours when I profane,

Or use them not to glory of my God,

To patronage the fatherless and poor,

Or for the benefit of England's peace,

Be numb, my joints, wax feeble, both mine arms,

Wither, my heart, that like a sapless tree

I may remain the map of infamy.

Then thus our steeled battles shall be ranged:

The leading of the vaward, Ned, is thine,

To dignify whose lusty spirit the more,

We temper it with Audley's gravity,

That, courage and experience joined in one,

Your manage may be second unto none.

For the main battles, I will guide myself,

And Derby in the rearward march behind.

That orderly disposed and set in 'ray,

Let us to horse, and God grant us the day!

Oh, Lorraine, say, what mean our men to fly?

Our number is far greater than our foe's.

The garrison of Genoese, my lord,

That came from Paris, weary of their march,

Grudging to be suddenly employed,

No sooner in the forefront took their place

But, straight retiring, so dismayed the rest

As likewise they betook themselves to flight,

In which, for haste to make a safe escape,

More in the clustering throng are pressed to death

Than by the enemy a thousandfold.

O hapless fortune! Let us yet assay

If we can counsel some of them to stay.

Lord Audley, whiles our son is in the chase,

Withdraw our powers unto this little hill,

And here a season let us breathe ourselves.

I will, my lord.

Just-dooming heaven, whose secret providence

To our gross judgement is inscrutable,

How are we bound to praise thy wondrous works,

That hast this day given way unto the right,

And made the wicked stumble at themselves.

Rescue, King Edward, rescue for thy son!

Rescue, Artois? What, is he prisoner,

Or by violence fell beside his horse?

Neither, my lord; but narrowly beset

With turning Frenchmen, whom he did pursue,

As 'tis impossible that he should scape,

Except your highness presently descend.

Tut, let him fight; we gave him arms today,

And he is labouring for a knighthood, man.

The Prince, my Lord, the Prince! Oh, succour him!

He's close encompassed with a world of odds!

Then will he win a world of honour too,

If he by valour can redeem him thence.

If not, what remedy? We have more sons

Than one, to comfort our declining age.

Renowned Edward, give me leave, I pray,

To lead my soldiers where I may relieve

Your grace's son, in danger to be slain.

The snares of French, like emmets on a bank,

Muster about him; whilst he, lion-like,

Entangled in the net of their assaults,

Franticly rends and bites the woven toil;

But all in vain, he cannot free himself.

Audley, content. I will not have a man,

On pain of death, sent forth to succour him.

This is the day, ordained by destiny,

To season his courage with those grievous thoughts

That, if he break out, Nestor's years on earth

Will make him savour still of this exploit.

Ah, but he shall not live to see those days.

Why, then his epitaph is lasting praise.

Yet, good my lord, 'tis too much wilfulness

To let his blood be spilt, that may be saved.

Exclaim no more; for none of you can tell

Whether a borrowed aid will serve or no;

Perhaps he is already slain or ta'en;

And dare a falcon when she's in her flight,

And ever after she'll be haggard-like.

Let Edward be delivered by our hands,

And still in danger he'll expect the like;

But if himself, himself redeem from thence,

He will have vanquished, cheerful, death and fear,

And ever after dread their force no more

Than if they were but babes or captive slaves.

O cruel father! Farewell Edward, then.

Farewell, sweet Prince, the hope of chivalry.

Oh, would my life might ransom him from death!

But soft, methinks I hear

The dismal charge of trumpets' loud retreat.

All are not slain, I hope, that went with him;

Some will return with tidings, good or bad.

O joyful sight! Victorious Edward lives!

Welcome, brave Prince!

Welcome, Plantagenet!

First having done my duty as beseemed,

Lords, I regreet you all with hearty thanks.

And now, behold, after my winter's toil,

My painful voyage on the boist'rous sea

Of war's devouring gulfs and steely rocks,

I bring my fraught unto the wished port,

My summer's hope, my travel's sweet reward,

And here with humble duty I present

This sacrifice, this first fruit of my sword,

Cropped and cut down even at the gate of death:

The king of Boheme, father, whom I slew,

Whose thousands had entrenched me round about,

And lay as thick upon my battered crest

As on an anvil with their ponderous glaives.

Yet marble courage still did underprop,

And when my weary arms, with often blows,

Like the continual labouring woodman's axe

That is enjoined to fell a load of oaks,

Began to falter, straight I would recover

My gifts you gave me, and my zealous vow,

And then new courage made me fresh again,

That, in despite, I carved my passage forth,

And put the multitude to speedy flight.

Lo, thus hath Edward's hand filled your request,

And done, I hope, the duty of a knight.

Ay, well thou hast deserved a knighthood, Ned;

And therefore with thy sword, yet reeking warm

With blood of those that fought to be thy bane,

Arise, Prince Edward, trusty knight at arms.

This day thou hast confounded me with joy,

And proved thyself fit heir unto a king.

Here is a note, my gracious lord, of those

That in this conflict of our foes were slain:

Eleven princes of esteem, fourscore barons,

A hundred-and-twenty knights, and thirty thousand

Common soldiers; and of our men, a thousand.

Our God be praised! Now, John of France, I hope

Thou know'st King Edward for no wantonness,

No lovesick cockney, nor his soldiers jades.

But which way is the fearful king escaped?

Towards Poitiers, noble father, and his sons.

Ned, thou and Audley shall pursue them still;

Myself and Derby will to Calais straight,

And there begirt that haven town with siege.

Now lies it on an upshot; therefore strike,

And wistly follow whiles the game's on foot. –

What picture's this?

A pelican, my lord,

Wounding her bosom with her crooked beak,

That so her nest of young ones might be fed

With drops of blood that issue from her heart:

The motto Sic et vos: ‘ and so should you.’