Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

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Текущая страница: 56 (всего у книги 250 страниц)

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,

His party stronger battled than our whole.

His son, the braving Duke of Normandy,

Hath trimmed the mountain on our right hand up

In shining plate, that now the aspiring hill

Shows like a silver quarry, or an orb,

Aloft the which the banners, bannerets

And new-replenished pennants cuff the air

And beat the winds that, for their gaudiness,

Struggles to kiss them. On our left hand lies

Philippe, the younger issue of the King,

Coating the other hill in such array

That all his gilded upright pikes do seem

Straight trees of gold; the pendant ensigns, leaves,

And their device of antique heraldry,

Quartered in colours seeming sundry fruits,

Makes it the orchard of the Hesperides.

Behind us too the hill doth rear his height,

For, like a half-moon opening but one way,

It rounds us in. There, at our backs, are lodged

The fatal crossbows, and the battle there

Is governed by the rough Châtillion.

Then thus it stands: the valley for our flight

The King binds in, the hills on either hand

Are proudly royalizèd by his sons,

And on the hill behind stands certain death

In pay and service with Châtillion.

PRINCE OF WALES

Death’s name is much more mighty than his deeds.

Thy parcelling this power hath made it more

Than all the world! Call it but a power.

As many sands as these, my hands, can hold

Are but my handful of so many sands,

Eas‘ly ta’en up and quickly thrown away.

But if I stand to count them, sand by sand,

The number would confound my memory,

And make a thousand millions of a task

Which, briefly, is no more in deed than one.

These quarters, squadrons and these regiments

Before, behind us, and on either hand,

Are but a power. When we name a man,

His hand, his foot, his head hath several strengths,

And, being all but one self-instanced strength,

Why, all this many, Audley, is but one,

And we can call it all but one man’s strength.

He that hath far to go tells it by miles;

If he should tell the steps it kills his heart.

The drops are infinite that make a flood,

And yet, thou know’st, we call it but a rain.

There is but one France, and one king of France:

That France hath no more kings, and that same king

Hath but the puissant legion of one king.

And we have one. Then apprehend no odds,

For one to one is fair equality.

Enter a Herald from Jean King of France

What tidings, messenger? Be plain and brief.

HERALD

The King of France, my sovereign lord and master,

Greets by me his foe, the Prince of Wales.

If thou call forth a hundred men of name—

Of lords, knights, squires and English gentlemen—

And with thyself and those, kneel at his feet,

He straight will fold his bloody colours up

And ransom shall redeem lives forfeited.

If not, this day shall drink more English blood

Than e’er was buried in our British earth.

What is thy answer to his proffered mercy?

PRINCE OF WALES

This heaven that covers France contains the mercy

That draws from me submissive orisons.

That such base breath should vanish from my lips

To urge the plea of mercy to a man,

The Lord forbid. Return and tell thy King:

My tongue is made of steel, and it shall beg

My mercy on his coward burgonet.

Tell him my colours are as red as his,

My men as bold, our English arms as strong.

Return him my defiance in his face.

HERALD I go.

Exit

Enter a Herald from the Dauphin (Prince Charles of Normandy)

PRINCE OF WALES What news with thee?

SECOND HERALD

The Duke of Normandy, my lord and master,

Pitying thy youth is so engirt with peril,

By me hath sent a nimble-jointed jennet,

As swift as ever yet thou didst bestride,

And therewithal he counsels thee to fly,

Else death himself hath sworn that thou shalt die.

PRINCE OF WALES

Back with the beast unto the beast that sent him!

Tell him I cannot sit a coward’s horse.

Bid him today bestride the jade himself,

For I will stain my horse quite o‘er with blood

And double-gild my spurs, but I will catch him.

So tell the cap’ring boy, and get thee gone.

SECOND HERALD I go.

Exit

Enter a Herald from Prince Philippe, carrying a book

THIRD HERALD

Edward of Wales, Philippe, the second son

To the most mighty Christian King of France,

Seeing thy body’s living date expired,

All full of charity and Christian love

He offers the book to the Prince

Commends this book full fairly fraught with prayers

To thy fair hand, and for thy hour of life

Entreats thee that thou meditate therein,

And arm thy soul for her long journey towards.

Thus have I done his bidding and return.

PRINCE OF WALES

Herald of Philippe, greet thy lord from me.

All good that he can send I can receive.

But think’st thou not the unadvised boy

Hath wronged himself in thus far tendering me?

Haply he cannot pray without the book;

I think him no divine extemporal.

Then render back this commonplace of prayer

To do himself good in adversity.

Besides, he knows not my sins’ quality,

And therefore knows no prayers for my avail.

Ere night his prayer may be to pray to God

To put it in my heart to hear his prayer.

So tell the courtly wanton, and be gone.

THIRD HERALD I go. Exit

PRINCE OF WALES

How confident their strength and number makes them!

Now, Audley, sound those silver wings of thine,

And let those milk-white messengers of time

Show thy time’s learning in this dangerous time.

Thyself art bruised and bit with many broils,

And stratagems fore-past with iron pens

Are texted in thine honourable face.

Thou art a married man in this distress,

But danger woos me as a blushing maid.

Teach me an answer to this perilous time.

AUDLEY

To die is all as common as to live.

The one enchased the other holds in chase.

For from the instant we begin to live,

We do pursue and hunt the time to die.

First bud we, then we blow, and after seed,

Then presently we fall, and as a shade

Follows the body, so we follow death.

If then we hunt for death why do we fear it?

If we fear it, why do we follow it?

If we do follow it, how can we shun it?

If we do fear, with fear we do but aid

The thing we fear to seize on us the sooner.

If we fear not, then no resolved proffer

Can overthrow the limit of our fate.

For whether ripe or rotten, drop we shall,

As we do draw the lottery of our doom.

PRINCE OF WALES

Ah, good old man! A thousand thousand armours

These words of thine have buckled on my back.

Ah, what an idiot hast thou made of life

To seek the thing it fears, and how disgraced

Th‘imperial victory of murd’ring death,

Since all the lives his conquering arrows strike

Seek him, and he not them, to shame his glory.

I will not give a penny for a life,

Nor half a halfpenny to shun grim death,

Since for to live is but to seek to die,

And dying but beginning of new life.

Let come the hour when he that rules it will.

To live or die I hold indifferent still.

Exeunt

Sc. 13 Enter Jean King of France and the Dauphin

KING OF FRANCE

A sudden darkness hath defaced the sky,

The winds are crept into their caves for fear,

The leaves move not, the world is hushed and still,

The birds cease singing and the wand’ring brooks

Murmur no wonted greeting to their shores.

Silence attends some wonder and expecteth

That heaven should pronounce some prophecy.

Where or from whom proceeds this silence, Charles?

DAUPHIN

Our men with open mouths and staring eyes

Look on each other as they did attend

Each other’s words, and yet no creature speaks.

A tongue-tied fear hath made a midnight hour,

And speeches sleep through all the waking regions.

KING OF FRANCE

But now the pompous sun in all his pride

Looked through his golden coach upon the world,

And, on a sudden, hath he hid himself,

That now the under earth is as a grave,

Dark, deadly, silent and uncomfortable.

A clamour of ravens

Hark, what a deadly outcry do I hear!

Enter Prince Philippe

DAUPHIN

Here comes my brother Philippe—

KING OF FRANCE All dismayed.

(To Philippe) What fearful words are those thy looks presage?

PRINCE PHILIPPE A flight, a flight—

KING OF FRANCE

Coward, what flight? Thou liest. There needs no flight.

PRINCE PHILIPPE A flight—

KING OF FRANCE

Awake thy craven powers, and tell on

The substance of that very fear in deed

Which is so ghastly printed in thy face.

What is the matter?

PRINCE PHILIPPE

A flight of ugly ravens

Do croak and hover o’er our soldiers’ heads,

And keep in triangles and cornered squares,

Right as our forces are embattelèd.

With their approach there came this sudden fog

Which now hath hid the airy floor of heaven,

And made at noon a night unnatural

Upon the quaking and dismayed world.

In brief, our soldiers have let fall their arms,

And stand like metamorphosed images,

Bloodless and pale, one gazing on another.

KING OF FRANCE ⌈aside⌉

Ay, now I call to mind the prophecy—

But I must give no utterance to a fear.

(To Philippe) Return, and hearten up these yielding souls!

Tell them the ravens, seeing them in arms—

So many fair against a famished few—

Come but to dine upon their handiwork,

And prey upon the carrion that they kill.

For when we see a horse laid down to die—

Although not dead—the ravenous birds

Sit watching the departure of his life.

Even so these ravens, for the carcasses

Of those poor English that are marked to die,

Hover about, and if they cry to us

’Tis but for meat that we must kill for them.

Away, and comfort up my soldiers,

And sound the trumpets and at once dispatch

This little business of a silly fraud. Exit Prince Philippe

Another noise. Enter the Earl of Salisbury brought in by a French Captain

FRENCH CAPTAIN

Behold, my liege, this knight and forty more,

Of whom the better part are slain and fled,

With all endeavour sought to break our ranks

And make their way to the encompassed Prince.

Dispose of him as please your majesty.

KING OF FRANCE

Go, and the next bough, soldier, that thou seest,

Disgrace it with his body presently,

Fore I do hold a tree in France too good

To be the gallows of an English thief.

EARL OF SALISBURY (to the Dauphin)

My lord of Normandy, I have your pass

And warrant for my safety through this land.

DAUPHIN

Villiers procured it for thee, did he not?

EARL OF SALISBURY He did.

DAUPHIN

And it is current. Thou shalt freely pass.

KING OF FRANCE

Ay, freely to the gallows to be hanged Without denial or impediment! Away with him.

DAUPHIN

I hope your highness will not so disgrace me,

And dash the virtue of my seal at arms.

He hath my never-broken name to show,

Charàctered with this princely hand of mine.

And rather let me leave to be a prince

Than break the stable verdict of a prince.

I do beseech you, let him pass in quiet.

KING OF FRANCE

Thou and thy word lie both in my command.

What canst thou promise that I cannot break?

Which of these twain is greater infamy—

To disobey thy father or thyself?

Thy word, nor no man’s, may exceed his power,

Nor that same man doth never break his word

That keeps it to the utmost of his power.

The breach of faith dwells in the soul’s consent,

Which, if thyself without consent do break,

Thou art not charged with the breach of faith.

Go, hang him; for thy licence lies in me,

And my constraint stands the excuse for thee.

DAUPHIN

What, am I not a soldier in my word?

Then arms, adieu, and let them fight that list.

Shall I not give my girdle from my waist

But with a guardian I shall be controlled

To say I may not give my things away?

Upon my soul, had Edward Prince of Wales

Engaged his word, writ down his noble hand,

For all your knights to pass his father’s land,

The royal King, to grace his warlike son,

Would not alone safe conduct give to them,

But with all bounty feasted them and theirs.

KING OF FRANCE

Dwell’st thou on precedents? Then be it so.

(To Salisbury) Say, Englishman, of what degree thou art.

EARL OF SALISBURY

An earl in England, though a prisoner here.

And those that know me, call me Salisbury.

KING OF FRANCE

Then, Salisbury, say whither thou art bound.

EARL OF SALISBURY

To Calais, where my liege, King Edward, is.

KING OF FRANCE

To Calais, Salisbury? Then to Calais pack,

And bid thy King prepare a noble grave

To put his princely son, black Edward, in.

And as thou travell’st westward from this place,

Some two leagues hence there is a lofty hill,

Whose top seems topless, for the embracing sky

Doth hide his high head in her azure bosom,

Upon whose tall top, when thy foot attains,

Look back upon the humble vale beneath—

Humble of late, but now made proud with arms—

And thence behold the wretched Prince of Wales

Hooped with a band of iron round about.

After which sight, to Calais spur amain,

And say the Prince was smothered and not slain.

And tell thy King, this is not all his ill,

For I will greet him ere he thinks I will.

Away, be gone. The smoke but of our shot

Will choke our foes, though bullets hit them not.

Exeunt

Sc. 14 Alarum. Enter Edward Prince of Wales and the Comte d’Artois

COMTE D’ARTOIS

How fares your grace? Are you not shot, my lord?

PRINCE OF WALES

No, dear Artois, but choked with dust and smoke,

And stepped aside for breath and fresher air.

COMTE D’ARTOIS

Breathe then, and to it again!The amazed French Are quite distract with gazing on the crows, And, were our quivers full of shafts again, Your grace should see a glorious day of this. O, for more arrows, Lord—that’s our one want!

PRINCE OF WALES

Courage, Artois! A fig for feathered shafts

When feathered fowls do bandy on our side!

What need we fight and sweat and keep a coil

When railing crows outscold our adversaries?

Up, up, Artois! The ground itself is armed

With fire-containing flint. Command our bows

To hurl away their parti-coloured yew,

And to it with stones! Away, Artois, away!

My soul doth prophesy we win the day.

Exeunt

Sc. 15 Alarum. Enter Jean King of France

KING OF FRANCE

Our multitudes are in themselves confounded,

Dismayed and distraught. Swift-starting fear

Hath buzzed a cold dismay through all our army,

And every petty disadvantage prompts

The fear-possessed abject soul to fly.

Myself, whose spirit is steel to their dull lead,

What with recalling of the prophecy,

And that our native stones from English arms

Rebel against us, find myself attainted

With strong surprise of weak and yielding fear.

Enter the Dauphin

DAUPHIN

Fly, father, fly! The French do kill the French:

Some that would stand let drive at some that fly;

Our drums strike nothing but discouragement;

Our trumpets sound dishonour and retire;

The spirit of fear, that feareth naught but death,

Cowardly works confusion on itself.

Enter Prince Philippe

PRINCE PHILIPPE

Pluck out your eyes and see not this day’s shame!

An arm hath beat an army. One poor David

Hath, with a stone, foiled twenty stout Goliaths.

Some twenty naked starvelings with small flints

Hath driven back a puissant host of men

Arrayed and fenced in all accomplements.

KING OF FRANCE

Mort dieu! They quoit at us and kill us up!

No less than forty thousand wicked elders

Have forty lean slaves this day stoned to death.

DAUPHIN

O, that I were some other countryman!

This day hath set derision on the French,

And all the world will blurt and scorn at us.

KING OF FRANCE What, is there no hope left?

PRINCE PHILIPPE

No hope but death, to bury up our shame.

KING OF FRANCE

Make up once more with me: the twenti’th part Of those that live are men enough to quail The feeble handful on the adverse part.

DAUPHIN

Then charge again! If heaven be not opposed

We cannot lose the day.

KING or FRANCE

On, on, away!

Exeunt

Sc. 16 Enter Lord Audley wounded and rescued by two Squires

SQUIRE

How fares my lord?

AUDLEY

Even as a man may do

That dines at such a bloody feast as this.

SQUIRE

I hope, my lord, that is no mortal scar.

AUDLEY

No matter if it be. The count is cast,

And, in the worst, ends but a mortal man.

Good friends, convey me to the princely Edward,

That, in the crimson bravery of my blood,

I may become him with saluting him.

I’ll smile and tell him that this open scar

Doth end the harvest of his Audley’s war. Exeunt