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PRINCE EDWARD.

Dear Audley, if my tongue ring out thy end,

My arms shall be thy grave: what may I do

To win thy life, or to revenge thy death?

If thou wilt drink the blood of captive kings,

Or that it were restorative, command

A Health of kings' blood, and I'll drink to thee;

If honor may dispense for thee with death,

The never dying honor of this day

Share wholly, Audley, to thy self, and live.

AUDLEY.

Victorious Prince,—that thou art so, behold

A Caesar's fame in king's captivity—

If I could hold him death but at a bay,

Till I did see my liege thy royal father,

My soul should yield this Castle of my flesh,

This mangled tribute, with all willingness,

To darkness, consummation, dust, and Worms.

PRINCE EDWARD.

Cheerily, bold man, thy soul is all too proud

To yield her City for one little breach;

Should be divorced from her earthly spouse

By the soft temper of a French man's sword?

Lo, to repair thy life, I give to thee

Three thousand Marks a year in English land.

AUDLEY.

I take thy gift, to pay the debts I owe:

These two poor Esquires redeemed me from the French

With lusty & dear hazard of their lives:

What thou hast given me, I give to them;

And, as thou lovest me, prince, lay thy consent

To this bequeath in my last testament.

PRINCE EDWARD.

Renowned Audley, live, and have from me

This gift twice doubled to these Esquires and thee:

But live or die, what thou hast given away

To these and theirs shall lasting freedom stay.

Come, gentlemen, I will see my friend bestowed

With in an easy Litter; then we'll march

Proudly toward Callis, with triumphant pace,

Unto my royal father, and there bring

The tribute of my wars, fair France his king.

[Exit.]

ACT V. SCENE I. Picardy. The English Camp before Calais.

[Enter King Edward, Queen Phillip, Derby, soldiers.]

KING EDWARD.

No more, Queen Phillip, pacify your self;

Copland, except he can excuse his fault,

Shall find displeasure written in our looks.

And now unto this proud resisting town!

Soldiers, assault: I will no longer stay,

To be deluded by their false delays;

Put all to sword, and make the spoil your own.

[Enter six Citizens in their Shirts, bare foot, with halters about their necks.]

ALL.

Mercy, king Edward, mercy, gracious Lord!

KING EDWARD.

Contemptuous villains, call ye now for truce?

Mine ears are stopped against your bootless cries:—

Sound, drums alarum; draw threatening swords!

FIRST CITIZEN.

Ah, noble Prince, take pity on this town,

And hear us, mighty king:

We claim the promise that your highness made;

The two days' respite is not yet expired,

And we are come with willingness to bear

What torturing death or punishment you please,

So that the trembling multitude be saved.

KING EDWARD.

My promise? Well, I do confess as much:

But I do require the chiefest Citizens

And men of most account that should submit;

You, peradventure, are but servile grooms,

Or some felonious robbers on the Sea,

Whom, apprehended, law would execute,

Albeit severity lay dead in us:

No, no, ye cannot overreach us thus.

SECOND CITIZEN.

The Sun, dread Lord, that in the western fall

Beholds us now low brought through misery,

Did in the Orient purple of the morn

Salute our coming forth, when we were known;

Or may our portion be with damned fiends.

KING EDWARD.

If it be so, then let our covenant stand:

We take possession of the town in peace,

But, for your selves, look you for no remorse;

But, as imperial justice hath decreed,

Your bodies shall be dragged about these walls,

And after feel the stroke of quartering steel:

This is your doom;—go, soldiers, see it done.

QUEEN PHILLIP.

Ah, be more mild unto these yielding men!

It is a glorious thing to stablish peace,

And kings approach the nearest unto God

By giving life and safety unto men:

As thou intendest to be king of France,

So let her people live to call thee king;

For what the sword cuts down or fire hath spoiled,

Is held in reputation none of ours.

KING EDWARD.

Although experience teach us this is true,

That peaceful quietness