Edward III William Shakespeare (books to read for 13 year olds .txt) 📖
- Author: William Shakespeare
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Since they refuse our proffer’d league, my lord,
And will not ope their gates and let us in,
We will intrench ourselves on every side,
That neither victuals nor supply of men
May come to succour this accursed town;
Famine shall combat where our swords are stopp’d.
The promis’d aid that made them stand aloof
Is now retir’d and gone an other way;
It will repent them of their stubborn will.
You wretched patterns of despair and woe,
What are you? living men, or gliding ghosts,
Crept from your graves to walk upon the earth?
No ghosts, my lord, but men that breathe a life
Far worse than is the quiet sleep of death:
We are distressed poor inhabitants
That long have been diseased, sick and lame;
And now, because we are not fit to serve,
The captain of the town hath thrust us forth
That so expense of victuals may be sav’d.
A charitable deed, no doubt, and worthy praise.—
But how do you imagine then to speed?
We are your enemies; in such a case
We can no less but put ye to the sword,
Since, when we proffer’d truce, it was refus’d.
An if your grace no otherwise vouchsafe,
As welcome death is unto us as life.
Poor silly men, much wrong’d and more distress’d!—
Go, Derby, go, and see they be reliev’d;
Command that victuals be appointed them
And give to every one five crowns a-piece:—Exeunt Derby and Frenchmen.
The lion scorns to touch the yielding prey,
And Edward’s sword must flesh itself in such
As wilful stubbornness hath made perverse.—
The queen, my lord, comes here to your grace;
And from her highness and the lord vicegerent
I bring this happy tidings of success:
David of Scotland, lately up in arms,
(Thinking, belike, he soonest should prevail,
Your highness being absent from the realm)
Is, by the fruitful service of your peers
And painful travel of the queen herself
That, big with child, was every day in arms,
Vanquish’d, subdu’d and taken prisoner.
Thanks, Percy, for thy news, with all my heart!
What was he, took him prisoner in the field?
A squire, my lord; John Copland is his name:
Who since, entreated by her majesty,
Denies to make surrender of his prize
To any but unto your grace alone;
Whereat the queen is grievously displeas’d.
Well, then we’ll have a pursuivant despatch’d
To summon Copland hither out of hand,
And with him he shall bring his prisoner king.
The queen’s, my lord, herself by this at sea,
And purposeth, as soon as wind will serve,
To land at Calice, and to visit you.
She shall be welcome; and, to wait her coming
I’ll pitch my tent near to the sandy shore.
The burgesses of Calice, mighty king,
Have, by a council, willingly decreed
To yield the town and castle to your hands,
Upon condition it will please your grace
To grant them benefit of life and goods.
They will so! then, belike, they may command,
Dispose, elect, and govern as they list.
No, sirrah, tell them, since they did refuse
Our princely clemency at first proclaim’d,
They shall not have it now, although they would;
I will accept of nought but fire and sword,
Except, within these two days, six of them,
That are the wealthiest merchants in the town,
Come naked, all but for their linen shirts,
With each a halter hang’d about his neck,
And prostrate yield themselves, upon their knees,
To be afflicted, hang’d, or what I please;
And so you may inform their masterships. Exeunt Edward and Percy.
Why, this it is to trust a broken staff.
Had we not been persuaded, John our king
Would with his army have reliev’d the town,
We had not stood upon defiance so.
But now ’tis past that no man can recall,
And better some do go to wrack, than all. Exit.
Poitou. Fields near Poitiers. The French camp; tent of the Duke of Normandy.
Enter Charles and Villiers. CharlesI wonder, Villiers, thou shouldst importune me
For one that is our deadly enemy.
Not for his sake, my gracious lord, so much
Am I become an earnest advocate
As that thereby my ransom will be quit.
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?
No, good, my lord, except the same be just;
For profit must with honour be comix’d
Or else our actions are but scandalous:
But, letting pass these intricate objections,
Will’t please your highness to subscribe, or no?
Villiers, I will not nor I cannot do it;
Salisbury shall not have his will so much,
To claim a passport how it please himself.
Why, then I know the extremity, my lord:
I must return to prison whence I came.
Return! I hope, thou wilt not.
What bird that hath escap’d the fowler’s gin
Will not beware how she’s ensnar’d again?
Or what is he so senseless and secure,
That, having hardly pass’d a dangerous gulf,
Will put himself in peril there again?
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.
Thine oath! why, that doth bind thee to abide:
Hast thou not sworn obedience to thy prince?
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.
Why, is it lawful for a man to kill,
And not, to break a promise with his foe?
To kill, my lord, when war is once proclaim’d,
So that our quarrel be for wrongs receiv’d,
No doubt, is lawfully permitted us:
But, in an oath, we must be well advis’d
How we do swear, and, when we once have sworn,
Not to infringe it, though we die therefore.
Therefore, my lord, as willing
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