DERBY. You wretched patterns of despair and woe, What are you, living men or gliding ghosts, Crept from your graves to walk upon the earth?

POOR. No ghosts, my Lord, but men that breath 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 saved.

KING EDWARD. 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 proffered truce, it was refused.

POOR. And if your grace no otherwise vouchsafe, As welcome death is unto us as life.

KING EDWARD. Poor silly men, much wronged and more distressed! Go, Derby, go, and see they be relieved; 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 it self in such As wilful stubbornness hath made perverse.

[Enter Lord Percy.]

KING EDWARD. Lord Percy! welcome: what's the news in England?

PERCY. The Queen, my Lord, comes here to your Grace, And from her highness and the Lord viceregent 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 her self, That, big with child, was every day in arms, Vanquished, subdued, and taken prisoner.

KING EDWARD. Thanks, Percy, for thy news, with all my heart! What was he took him prisoner in the field?

PERCY. A Esquire, my Lord; John Copland is his name: Who since, intreated by her Majesty, Denies to make surrender of his prize To any but unto your grace alone; Whereat the Queen is grievously displeased.

KING EDWARD. Well, then we'll have a Pursiuvant despatched, To summon Copland hither out of hand, And with him he shall bring his prisoner king.

PERCY. The Queen's, my Lord, her self by this at Sea, And purposeth, as soon as wind will serve, To land at Callis, and to visit you.

KING EDWARD. She shall be welcome; and, to wait her coming, I'll pitch my tent near to the sandy shore.

[Enter a French Captain.]

CAPTAIN. The Burgesses of Callis, mighty king, Have by a counsel 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.

KING EDWARD. They will so! Then, belike, they may command, Dispose, elect, and govern as they list. No, sirra, tell them, since they did refuse Our princely clemency at first proclaimed, 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 hanged about his neck, And prostrate yield themselves, upon their knees, To be afflicted, hanged, or what I please; And so you may inform their masterships.

[Exeunt Edward and Percy.]

CAPTAIN. Why, this it is to trust a broken staff: Had we not been persuaded, John our King Would with his army have relieved 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 them all.

[Exit.]

ACT IV. SCENE III. Poitou. Fields near Poitiers. The French camp; Tent of the Duke of Normandy.

[Enter Charles of Normandy and Villiers.]

CHARLES. I wonder, Villiers, thou shouldest 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.

CHARLES. Thy ransom, man? why needest 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 honor be comixt, Or else our actions are but scandalous. But, letting pass their intricate objections, Wilt please your highness to subscribe, or no?

CHARLES. Villiers, I will not, nor I cannot do it; Salisbury shall not have his will so much, To claim a passport how it pleaseth himself.

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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