The Raigne of King
But with all bountie seasted them and theirs.
Kin: Dwelst thou on presidents, then be it so,
Say Englishman of what degree thou art.
Say Englishman of what degree thou art.
Sa: An Earle in England, though a prisoner here,
And those that knowe me call me Salisburie.
And those that knowe me call me Salisburie.
Kin: Then Salisburie, say whether thou art bound.
Sa. To Callice where my liege king Edward is.
Kin: To Callice Salisburie, then to Callice packe,
and bid the king prepare a noble graue,
To put his princely sonne blacke Edward in,
and as thou trauelst westward from this place,
Some two leagues hence there is a loftie hill,
Whose top seemes toplesse, for the imbracing skie,
Doth hide his high head in her a zure bosome,
Vpon whose tall top when thy foot attaines,
Looke backe vpon the humble vale beneath,
Humble of late, but now made proud with armes,
and thence behold the wretched prince of Wales,
Hoopt with a bond of yron round about,
After which sight to Callice spurre amaine,
and saie the prince was smoothered, and not slaine,
and tell the king this is not all his ill,
For I will greet him ere he thinkes I will,
Awaie be gone, the smoake but of our shot,
Exit.Will choake our foes, though bullets hit them not.
and bid the king prepare a noble graue,
To put his princely sonne blacke Edward in,
and as thou trauelst westward from this place,
Some two leagues hence there is a loftie hill,
Whose top seemes toplesse, for the imbracing skie,
Doth hide his high head in her a zure bosome,
Vpon whose tall top when thy foot attaines,
Looke backe vpon the humble vale beneath,
Humble of late, but now made proud with armes,
and thence behold the wretched prince of Wales,
Hoopt with a bond of yron round about,
After which sight to Callice spurre amaine,
and saie the prince was smoothered, and not slaine,
and tell the king this is not all his ill,
For I will greet him ere he thinkes I will,
Awaie be gone, the smoake but of our shot,
Exit.Will choake our foes, though bullets hit them not.
Allarum.Enter prince Edward and Artoys.
Art: How fares your grace, are you not shot my Lord?
Pri: No deare Artoys, but choakt with dust and smoake,
And stept aside for breath and fresher aire.
And stept aside for breath and fresher aire.
Art. Breath then, and too it againe, the amazed French
are quite distract with gazing on the crowes,
and were our quiuers full of shafts againe,
Your grace should see a glorious day of this,
O for more arrowes Lord, thats our want.
are quite distract with gazing on the crowes,
and were our quiuers full of shafts againe,
Your grace should see a glorious day of this,
O for more arrowes Lord, thats our want.
Pri. Courage Artoys, a fig for feathered shafts,
When feathered foules doo bandie on our side,
What need we fight, and sweate, and keepe a coile,
When railing crowes outscolde our aduersaries
When feathered foules doo bandie on our side,
What need we fight, and sweate, and keepe a coile,
When railing crowes outscolde our aduersaries
Vp
