Edward III

suit. Countess

Unnatural besiege! Woe me unhappy,
To have escap’d the danger of my foes
And to be ten times worse envir’d by friends!
Hath he no means to stain my honest blood,
But to corrupt the author of my blood
To be his scandalous and vile solicitor?
No marvel, though the branches be then infected,
When poison hath encompassed the root:
No marvel, though the leprous infant die,
When the stern dam envenometh the dug.
Why then, give sin a passport to offend,
And youth the dangerous rein of liberty:
Blot out the strict forbidding of the law;
And cancel every canon, that prescribes
A shame for shame or penance for offence.
No, let me die, if his too boist’rous will
Will have it so, before I will consent
To be an actor in his graceless lust.

Warwick

Why, now thou speak’st as I would have thee speak:
And mark how I unsay my words again.
An honourable grave is more esteem’d,
Than the polluted closet of a king:
The greater man, the greater is the thing,
Be it good or bad, that he shall undertake:
An unreputed mote, flying in the sun,
Presents a greater substance than it is:
The freshest summer’s day doth soonest taint
The loathed carrion that it seems to kiss:
Deep are the blows made with a mighty axe:
That sin doth ten times aggravate itself,
That is committed in a holy place:
An evil deed, done by authority,
Is sin and subornation: deck an ape
In tissue, and the beauty of the robe
Adds but the greater scorn unto the beast.
A spacious field of reasons could I urge
Between his glory, daughter, and thy shame:
That poison shows worst in a golden cup;
Dark night seems darker by the lightning-flash;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds;
And every glory that inclines to sin,
The shame is treble by the opposite.
So leave I, with my blessing in thy bosom;
Which then convert to a most heavy curse,
When thou convert’st from honour’s golden name
To the black faction of bed-blotting shame! Exit.

Countess

I’ll follow thee; and when my mind turns so,
My body sink my soul in endless woe! Exit.

Scene II

The same. A room in the castle.

	Enter Derby and Audley, meeting.
Derby	Thrice-noble Audley, well encounter’d here: How is it with our sovereign and his peers?
Audley	’Tis full a fortnight since I saw his highness, What time he sent me forth to muster men; Which I accordingly have done, and bring them hither In fair array before his majesty. What news, my Lord of Derby, from the Emperor?
Derby	As good as we desire: the Emperor Hath yielded to his highness friendly aid; And makes our king lieutenant-general In all his lands and large dominions: Then via for the spacious bounds of France!
Audley	What, doth his highness leap to hear these news?
Derby	I have not yet found time to open them; The king is in his closet, malcontent, For what, I know not, but he gave in charge, Till after dinner, none should interrupt him: The Countess Salisbury, and her father Warwick, Artois, and all, look underneath the brows.
Audley	Undoubtedly then some thing is amiss. Trumpet within.
Derby	The trumpets sound; the king is now abroad.
	Enter King Edward.
Audley	Here comes his highness.
Derby	Befall my sovereign all my sovereign’s wish!
King Edward	Ah, that thou wert a witch, to make it so!
Derby	The emperor greeteth you: Presenting letters.
King Edward	Would it were the countess!
Derby	And hath accorded to your highness’ suit.
King Edward	Thou liest, she hath not; but I would, she had!
Audley	All love and duty to my lord the king!
King Edward	Well, all but one is none:⁠—what news with you?
Audley	I have, my liege, levied those horse and foot, According to your charge, and brought them hither.
King Edward	Then let those foot trudge hence upon those horse, According to our discharge, and be gone.⁠— Derby, I’ll look upon the countess’ mind anon.
Derby	The countess’ mind, my liege?
King Edward	I mean the emperor: leave me alone.
Audley	What’s in his mind?
Derby	Let’s leave him to his humour. Exeunt Derby and Audley.
King Edward	Thus from the heart’s abundance speaks the tongue; Countess for emperor: and, indeed, why not? She is as imperator over me; And I to her Am as a kneeling vassal that observes The pleasure or displeasure of her eye.⁠—
	Enter Lodwick.
	What says the more than Cleopatra’s match To Caesar now?
Lodwick	That yet, my liege, ere night She will resolve your majesty. Drum within.
King Edward	What drum is this, that thunders forth this march, To start the tender Cupid in my bosom? Poor sheep-skin, how it brawls with him that beateth it! Go, break the thund’ring parchment-bottom out, And I will teach it to conduct sweet lines Unto the bosom of a heavenly nymph: For I will use it as my writing-paper; And so reduce him, from a scolding drum, To be the herald and dear counsel-bearer Betwixt a goddess and a mighty king. Go, bid the drummer learn to touch the lute, Or hang him in the braces of his drum; For now we think it an uncivil thing, To trouble heaven with such harsh resounds: Away.⁠—Exit Lodwick. The quarrel, that I have, requires no arms But these of mine; and these shall meet my foe In a deep march of penetrable groans: My eyes shall be my arrows; and my sighs Shall serve me as the vantage of the wind, To whirl away my sweet’st artillery: Ah but, alas, she wins the sun of me, For that is she herself; and thence it comes That poets term the wanton warrior blind; But love hath eyes as judgement to his steps, Till too-much-loved glory dazzles them.⁠—
	Re-enter Lodwick.
	How now?
Lodwick	My liege, the drum that stroke the lusty march Stands with Prince Edward, your thrice-valiant son.
	Enter Prince Edward. Lodwick retires to the door.
King Edward	I see the boy. O, how his mother’s face, Modell’d in his, corrects my stray’d desire And rates my heart and chides my thievish eye; Who being rich enough in seeing her, Yet seeks elsewhere: and basest theft is that, Which cannot cloak itself on poverty.⁠— Now, boy, what news?
Prince Edward	I have assembled, my dear lord and father, The choicest buds of all our English blood For our affairs in France; and here we come, To take direction from your majesty.
King Edward	Still do I