The Complete Poems Read online

  The cold relief – the blood is stay’d,

  60 And Hodge again holds up his head.

  Such are the fortunes of the game,

  And those who play should stop the same

  By wholesome laws; such as all those

  Who on the blinded man impose,

  Stand in his stead; as long a-gone

  When men were first a nation grown;

  Lawless they liv’d – till wantonness

  And liberty began t’ increase;

  And one man lay in another’s way,

  70 Then laws were made to keep fair play.

  King Edward the Third

  PERSONS

  King Edward

  The Black Prince

  Queen Philippa

  Duke of Clarence

  Sir John Chandos

  Sir Thomas Dagworth

  Sir Walter Manny

  Lord Audley

  Lord Percy

  Bishop

  William, Dagworth’s Man

  Peter Blunt, a common Soldier

  SCENE [1]

  The Coast of France, King Edward and Nobles.

  The Army.

  KING: O thou, to whose fury the nations are

  But as dust! maintain thy servant’s right.

  Without thine aid, the twisted mail, and spear,

  And forged helm, and shield of seven times beaten brass,

  Are idle trophies of the vanquisher.

  When confusion rages, when the field is in a flame,

  When the cries of blood tear horror from heav’n,

  And yelling death runs up and down the ranks,

  Let Liberty, the charter’d right of Englishmen,

  10 Won by our fathers in many a glorious field,

  Enerve my soldiers; let Liberty

  Blaze in each countenance, and fire the battle.

  The enemy fight in chains, invisible chains, but heavy;

  Their minds are fetter’d; then how can they be free,

  While, like the mounting flame,

  We spring to battle o’er the floods of death?

  And these fair youths, the flow’r of England,

  Vent’ring their lives in my most righteous cause,

  O sheathe their hearts with triple steel, that they

  20 May emulate their father’s virtues.

  And thou, my son, be strong; thou fightest for a crown

  That death can never ravish from thy brow,

  A crown of glory: but from thy very dust

  Shall beam a radiance, to fire the breasts

  Of youth unborn! Our names are written equal

  In fame’s wide trophied hall; ’tis ours to gild

  The letters, and to make them shine with gold

  That never tarnishes: whether Third Edward,

  Or the Prince of Wales, or Montacute, or Mortimer,

  30 Or ev’n the least by birth, shall gain the brightest fame,

  Is in his hand to whom all men are equal.

  The world of men are like the num’rous stars,

  That beam and twinkle in the depth of night,

  Each clad in glory according to his sphere; –

  But we, that wander from our native seats,

  And beam forth lustre on a darkling world,

  Grow larger as we advance! and some perhaps

  The most obscure at home, that scarce were seen

  To twinkle in their sphere, may so advance,

  40 That the astonish’d world, with up-turn’d eyes,

  Regardless of the moon, and those that once were bright,

  Stand only for to gaze upon their splendor!

  He here knights the Prince, and other young Nobles.

  Now let us take a just revenge for those

  Brave Lords, who fell beneath the bloody axe

  At Paris. Thanks, noble Harcourt, for ’twas

  By your advice we landed here in Brittany –

  A country not yet sown with destruction,

  And where the fiery whirlwind of swift war

  Has not yet swept its desolating wing. –

  50 Into three parties we divide by day,

  And separate march, but join again at night:

  Each knows his rank, and Heav’n marshal all.

  Exeunt.

  SCENE [2]

  English Court; Lionel, Duke of Clarence; Queen Philippa, Lords, Bishop, &c.

  CLARENCE: My Lords, I have, by the advice of her

  Whom I am doubly bound to obey, my Parent

  And my Sovereign, call’d you together.

  My task is great, my burden heavier than

  My unfledg’d years;

  Yet, with your kind assistance, Lords, I hope

  England shall dwell in peace; that while my father

  Toils in his wars, and turns his eyes on this

  His native shore, and sees commerce fly round

  10 With his white wings, and sees his golden London,

  And her silver Thames, throng’d with shining spires

  And corded ships; her merchants buzzing round

  Like summer bees, and all the golden cities

  In his land, overflowing with honey,

  Glory may not be dimm’d with clouds of care.

  Say, Lords, should not our thoughts be first to commerce?

  My Lord Bishop, you would recommend us agriculture?

  BISHOP: Sweet Prince! the arts of peace are great,

  And no less glorious than those of war,

  20 Perhaps more glorious in the ph[i]losophic mind.

  When I sit at my home, a private man,

  My thoughts are on my gardens, and my fields,

  How to employ the hand that lacketh bread.

  If Industry is in my diocese,

  Religion will flourish; each man’s heart

  Is cultivated, and will bring forth fruit:

  This is my private duty and my pleasure.

  But as I sit in council with my prince,

  My thoughts take in the gen’ral good of the whole,

  30 And England is the land favour’d by Commerce;

  For Commerce, tho’ the child of Agriculture,

  Fosters his parent, who else must sweat and toil,

  And gain but scanty fare. Then, my dear Lord,

  Be England’s trade our care; and we, as tradesmen,

  Looking to the gain of this our native land.

  CLAR: Oh my good Lord, true wisdom drops like honey

  From your tongue, as from a worship’d oak!

  Forgive, my Lords, my talkative youth, that speaks

  Not merely what my narrow observation has

  40 Pick’d up, but what I have concluded from your lessons:

  Now, by the Queen’s advice, I ask your leave

  To dine to-morrow with the Mayor of London:

  If I obtain your leave, I have another boon

  To ask, which is, the favour of your company;

  I fear Lord Percy will not give me leave.

  PERCY: Dear Sir, a prince should always keep his state,

  And grant his favours with a sparing hand,

  Or they are never rightly valued.

  These are my thoughts, yet it were best to go;

  50 But keep a proper dignity, for now

  You represent the sacred person of

  Your father; ’tis with princes as ’tis with the sun,

  If not sometimes o’er-clouded, we grow weary

  Of his officious glory.

  CLAR: Then you will give me leave to shine sometimes, My Lord?

  LORD: Thou hast a gallant spirit, which I fear

  Will be imposed on by the closer sort! [Aside.

  CLAR: Well, I’ll endeavour to take

  60 Lord Percy’s advice; I have been used so much

  To dignity, that I’m sick on’t.

  QUEEN PHIL: Fie, Fie, Lord Clarence; you proceed not to business,

  But speak of your own pleasures.

  I hope their Lordships will excuse your giddiness.r />
  CLAR: My Lords, the French have fitted out many

  Small ships of war, that, like to ravening wolves,

  Infest our English seas, devouring all

  Our burden’d vessels, spoiling our naval flocks.

  The merchants do complain, and beg our aid.

  70 PERCY: The merchants are rich enough;

  Can they not help themselves?

  BISH: They can, and may; but how to gain their will,

  Requires our countenance and help.

  PERCY: When that they find they must, my Lord, they will:

  Let them but suffer awhile, and you shall see

  They will bestir themselves.

  BISH: Lord Percy cannot mean that we should suffer

  This disgrace; if so, we are not sovereigns

  Of the sea; our right, that Heaven gave

  80 To England, when at the birth of nature

  She was seated in the deep, the Ocean ceas’d

  His mighty roar; and, fawning, play’d around

  Her snowy feet, and own’d his awful Queen.

  Lord Percy, if the heart is sick, the head

  Must be aggriev’d; if but one member suffer,

  The heart doth fail. You say, my Lord, the merchants

  Can, if they will, defend themselves against

  These rovers: this is a noble scheme,

  Worthy the brave Lord Percy, and as worthy

  90 His generous aid to put it into practice.

  PERCY: Lord Bishop, what was rash in me, is wise

  In you; I dare not own the plan. ’Tis not

  Mine. Yet will I, if you please,

  Quickly to the Lord Mayor, and work him onward

  To this most glorious voyage, on which cast

  I’ll set my whole estate.

  But we will bring these Gallic rovers under.

  QUEEN PHIL: Thanks, brave Lord Percy; you have the thanks

  Of England’s Queen, and will, ere long, of England.

  Exeunt.

  SCENE [3]

  At Cressey. Sir Thomas Dagworth and Lord Audley, meeting.

  AUD: Good morrow, brave Sir Thomas; the bright morn

  Smiles on our army, and the gallant sun

  Springs from the hills like a young hero

  Into the battle, shaking his golden locks

  Exultingly; this is a promising day.

  DAGW: Why, my Lord Audley, I don’t know.

  Give me your hand, and now I’ll tell you what

  I think you do not know – Edward’s afraid of Philip.

  AUD: Ha, Ha, Sir Thomas! you but joke;

  10 Did you eer see him fear? At Blanchetaque,

  When almost singly he drove six thousand

  French from the ford, did he fear then?

  DAGW: Yes, fear; that made him fight so.

  AUD: By the same reason I might say, ’tis fear

  That makes you fight.

  DAGW: Mayhap you may; look upon Edward’s face –

  No one can say he fears. But when he turns

  His back, then I will say it to his face,

  He is afraid; he makes us all afraid.

  20 I cannot bear the enemy at my back.

  Now here we are at Cressy; where, to-morrow,

  To-morrow we shall know. I say, Lord Audley,

  That Edward runs away from Philip.

  AUD: Perhaps you think the Prince too is afraid?

  DAGW: No; God forbid! I’m sure he is not –

  He is a young lion. O I have seen him fight,

  And give command, and lightning has flashed

  From his eyes across the field; I have seen him

  Shake hands with death, and strike a bargain for

  30 The enemy; he has danc’d in the field

  Of battle, like the youth at morrice play.

  I’m sure he’s not afraid, nor Warwick, nor none,

  None of us but me; and I am very much afraid.

  AUD: Are you afraid too, Sir Thomas?

  I believe that as much as I believe

  The King’s afraid; but what are you afraid of?

  DAGW: Of having my back laid open; we turn

  Our backs to the fire, till we shall burn our skirts.

  AUD: And this, Sir Thomas, you call fear? Your fear

  40 Is of a different kind then from the King’s;

  He fears to turn his face, and you to turn your back. –

  I do not think, Sir Thomas, you know what fear is.

  Enter Sir John Chandos.

  CHAND: Good morrow, Generals; I give you joy;

  Welcome to the fields of Cressy. Here we stop,

  And wait for Philip.

  DAGW: I hope so.

  AUD: There, Sir Thomas; do you call that fear?

  DAGW: I don’t know; perhaps he takes it by fits.

  Why, noble Chandos, look you here –

  50 One rotten sheep spoils the whole flock;

  And if the bell-weather is tainted, I wish

  The Prince may not catch the distemper too.

  CHAND: Distemper, Sir Thomas! what distemper?

  I have not heard.

  DAGW: Why, Chandos, you are a wise man,

  I know you understand me; a distemper

  The King caught here in France of running away.

  AUD: Sir Thomas, you say, you have caught it too.

  DAGW: And so will the whole army; ’tis very catching,

  60 For when the coward runs, the brave man totters.

  Perhaps the air of the country is the cause. –

  I feel it coming upon me, so I strive against it;

  You yet are whole, but after a few more

  Retreats, we all shall know how to retreat

  Better than fight. – To be plain, I think retreating

  Too often, takes away a soldier’s courage.

  CHAND: Here comes the King himself; tell him your thoughts

  Plainly, Sir Thomas.

  DAGW: I’ve told him before, but his disorder

  70 Makes him deaf.

  Enter King Edward and Black Prince.

  KING: Good morrow, Generals; when English courage fails,

  Down goes our right to France;

  But we are conquerors every where; nothing

  Can stand our soldiers; each man is worthy

  Of a triumph. Such an army of heroes

  Ne’er shouted to the Heav’ns, nor shook the field.

  Edward, my son, thou art

  Most happy, having such command; the man

  Were base who were not fir’d to deeds

  80 Above heroic, having such examples.

  PRINCE: Sire! with respect and deference I look

  Upon such noble souls, and wish myself

  Worthy the high command that Heaven and you

  Have given me. When I have seen the field glow,

  And in each countenance the soul of war

  Curb’d by the manliest reason, I have been wing’d

  With certain victory; and ’tis my boast,

  And shall be still my glory. I was inspir’d

  By these brave troops.

  90 DAGW: Your Grace had better make

  Them all Generals.

  KING: Sir Thomas Dagworth, you must have your joke,

  And shall, while you can fight as you did at

  The Ford.

  DAGW: I have a small petition to your Majesty.

  KING: What can Sir Thomas Dagworth ask, that Edward Can refuse?

  DAGW: I hope your Majesty cannot refuse so great

  A trifle: I’ve gilt your cause with my best blood,

  100 And would again, were I not forbid

  By him whom I am bound to obey: my hands

  Are tied up, my courage shrunk and wither’d,

  My sinews slacken’d, and my voice scarce heard;.

  Therefore I beg I may return to England.

  KING: I know not what you could have ask’d, Sir Thomas,

  That I would not have sooner parted with

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sp; Than such a soldier as you have been, and such a friend;

  Nay, I will know the most remote particulars

  Of this your strange petition; that, if I can,

  110 I still may keep you here.

  DAGW: Here on the fields of Cressy we are settled,

  ’Till Philip springs the tim’rous covey again.

  The Wolf is hunted down by causeless fear;

  The Lion flees, and fear usurps his heart;

  Startled, astonish’d at the clam’rous Cock;

  The Eagle, that doth gaze upon the sun,

  Fears the small fire that plays about the fen;

  If, at this moment of their idle fear,

  The Dog doth seize the Wolf, the Forester the Lion,

  120 The Negro in the crevice of the rock,

  Doth seize the soaring Eagle; undone by flight,

  They tame submit; such the effect flight has

  On noble souls. Now hear its opposite:

  The tim’rous Stag starts from the thicket wild,

  The fearful Crane springs from the splashy fen,

  The shining Snake glides o’er the bending grass,

  The Stag turns head! and bays the crying Hounds;

  The Crane o’ertaken, sighteth with the Hawk;

  The Snake doth turn, and bite the padding foot;

  130 And, if your Majesty’s afraid of Philip,

  You are more like a Lion than a Crane:

  Therefore I beg I may return to England.

  KING: Sir Thomas, now I understand your mirth,

  Which often plays with Wisdom for its pastime,

  And brings good counsel from the breast of laughter,

  I hope you’ll stay, and see us fight this battle,

  And reap rich harvest in the fields of Cressy;

  Then go to England, tell them how we fight,

  And set all hearts on fire to be with us.

  140 Philip is plum’d, and thinks we flee from him,

  Else he would never dare to attack us. Now,

  Now the quarry’s set! and Death doth sport

  In the bright sunshine of this fatal day.

  DAGW: Now my heart dances, and I am as light

  As the young bridegroom going to be married.

  Now must I to my soldiers, get them ready,

  Furbish our armours bright, new plume our helms,

  And we will sing, like the young housewives busied

  In the dairy; my feet are wing’d, but not

  150 For flight, an please your grace.

  KING: If all my soldiers are as pleas’d as you,

  ’Twill be a gallant thing to fight or die;

  Then I can never be afraid of Philip.

  DAGW: A raw-bon’d fellow t’other day pass’d by me;

  I told him to put off his hungry looks –

  He answer’d me, ‘I hunger for another battle.’

  I saw a little Welchman with a fiery face;