Ribau.Pr'ythee, no more, La Gloire? I am resolved;—My purpose fix'd. It would be bitter to thee,To see me die in anger with thee: therefore,Do thou my bidding; close thy service up,In duty to my will. Go, find thy father;I will prepare within the while.—Obey me,—Or the last look from thy expiring master,Darting reproach, shall burst thy heart in twain.Mark, and be punctual!
Ribau.Pr'ythee, no more, La Gloire? I am resolved;—My purpose fix'd. It would be bitter to thee,To see me die in anger with thee: therefore,Do thou my bidding; close thy service up,In duty to my will. Go, find thy father;I will prepare within the while.—Obey me,—Or the last look from thy expiring master,Darting reproach, shall burst thy heart in twain.Mark, and be punctual!
Ribau.Pr'ythee, no more, La Gloire? I am resolved;—
My purpose fix'd. It would be bitter to thee,
To see me die in anger with thee: therefore,
Do thou my bidding; close thy service up,
In duty to my will. Go, find thy father;
I will prepare within the while.—Obey me,—
Or the last look from thy expiring master,
Darting reproach, shall burst thy heart in twain.
Mark, and be punctual!
[Exit.
La Gloire.O, the Virgin! Why was I ever attached to man, woman, or child?
EnterEustache de St. Pierre.
Eust.Where's thy commander, boy—Count Ribaumont?
La Gloire.O father!——
Eust.Peace!—I must a word with him.I have a few short thanks I would deliver,Touching his care of thee: it is the lastOf all my worldly packages; that done,I may set forward on my journey.
Eust.Peace!—I must a word with him.I have a few short thanks I would deliver,Touching his care of thee: it is the lastOf all my worldly packages; that done,I may set forward on my journey.
Eust.Peace!—I must a word with him.
I have a few short thanks I would deliver,
Touching his care of thee: it is the last
Of all my worldly packages; that done,
I may set forward on my journey.
La Gloire.Oh, father! I shall never go to bed again in peace as long as I live. Sorrow will keep my eyes open half the night; and when I drop into a doze at day-break, I shall be hanged with you, father, a score of times every morning.
Eust.I could have spared this meeting.—Boy, I will not—Nor would I, had I time for't, ring a chimeOf drowsy document, at this, our parting.Nor will I stuff the simple plan of life,That I would have thee follow, with trim angles,And petty intersections of nice conduct;Which dotards, rotten in their wisdom, oftWill mark, in mathematical precision,Upon a stripling's mind, until they blurThe modest hand of nature. Thou'rt a soldier;'Tis said a good one;—and I ne'er yet knewA rough, true soldier, lack humanity:—If, then, thou canst, with one hand, push asideThe buffets of the world, and, with the other,Stretch'd forth, in warm and manly charity,Assist the weak,——be thankful for the ground-work,And e'en let impulse build upon't;—thou needstNo line, nor level, formal age can give thee,To raise a noble superstructure. Come;Embrace me;—when thy father sleeps in honour,Think that—[Embracing him, he bursts into Tears.]—my son, my boy!—Psha! pish! this nature—Conduct me to——
Eust.I could have spared this meeting.—Boy, I will not—Nor would I, had I time for't, ring a chimeOf drowsy document, at this, our parting.Nor will I stuff the simple plan of life,That I would have thee follow, with trim angles,And petty intersections of nice conduct;Which dotards, rotten in their wisdom, oftWill mark, in mathematical precision,Upon a stripling's mind, until they blurThe modest hand of nature. Thou'rt a soldier;'Tis said a good one;—and I ne'er yet knewA rough, true soldier, lack humanity:—If, then, thou canst, with one hand, push asideThe buffets of the world, and, with the other,Stretch'd forth, in warm and manly charity,Assist the weak,——be thankful for the ground-work,And e'en let impulse build upon't;—thou needstNo line, nor level, formal age can give thee,To raise a noble superstructure. Come;Embrace me;—when thy father sleeps in honour,Think that—[Embracing him, he bursts into Tears.]—my son, my boy!—Psha! pish! this nature—Conduct me to——
Eust.I could have spared this meeting.—Boy, I will not—
Nor would I, had I time for't, ring a chime
Of drowsy document, at this, our parting.
Nor will I stuff the simple plan of life,
That I would have thee follow, with trim angles,
And petty intersections of nice conduct;
Which dotards, rotten in their wisdom, oft
Will mark, in mathematical precision,
Upon a stripling's mind, until they blur
The modest hand of nature. Thou'rt a soldier;
'Tis said a good one;—and I ne'er yet knew
A rough, true soldier, lack humanity:—
If, then, thou canst, with one hand, push aside
The buffets of the world, and, with the other,
Stretch'd forth, in warm and manly charity,
Assist the weak,——be thankful for the ground-work,
And e'en let impulse build upon't;—thou needst
No line, nor level, formal age can give thee,
To raise a noble superstructure. Come;
Embrace me;—when thy father sleeps in honour,
Think that—[Embracing him, he bursts into Tears.]—my son, my boy!—Psha! pish! this nature—
Conduct me to——
La Gloire.[Catching hold of him.]Hold! hold!—We shall leap here, from bad to worse. I—I am bidden, father, to deliver a message to you.
Eust.Be quick, then; the time wears.
La Gloire.No, truly, 'twill not come quick. I must force it out in driblets. My captain bids me say, that—that brave men are scarce. Find six in the town, and you find all;—so he will join you at the market-cross, and—go with you—to——
Eust.The scaffold!
La Gloire.Yes, the sca—that word sticks so in my throat, I can't squeeze it out, for the life of me.
Eust.Why, this shows nobly now! our honest causeIs graced in the addition. Lead me—[ObservingLa Gloire, weeping]—how now?Out on thee, knave! thoul't bring disgrace upon me.By Heaven! I feel as proud in this, my death;——And thou, the nearest to my blood, to sullyMy house's name with womanhood—Shame! shame!Where is the noble Ribaumont?
Eust.Why, this shows nobly now! our honest causeIs graced in the addition. Lead me—[ObservingLa Gloire, weeping]—how now?Out on thee, knave! thoul't bring disgrace upon me.By Heaven! I feel as proud in this, my death;——And thou, the nearest to my blood, to sullyMy house's name with womanhood—Shame! shame!Where is the noble Ribaumont?
Eust.Why, this shows nobly now! our honest cause
Is graced in the addition. Lead me—[ObservingLa Gloire, weeping]—how now?
Out on thee, knave! thoul't bring disgrace upon me.
By Heaven! I feel as proud in this, my death;——
And thou, the nearest to my blood, to sully
My house's name with womanhood—Shame! shame!
Where is the noble Ribaumont?
[Going.
La Gloire.Stay, father, stay! I can hold it no longer. I love Madelon too well to keep her waking o'nights, with blubbering over her for the loss of my father, and my captain:—another neck is wanting to make up the half dozen; so I'll e'en along, father, as the sixth.
Eust.[After a Pause.]I know not what to answer.—Thou hast shakenMy manhood to the centre.—Follow, boy!Thy aim is honour; but the dreary road to't,Which thou must tread, does stir the father in me.'Tis such a nice and tickle point, betweenThe patriot and the parent, that, Heaven knows,I need a counsellor.—I'll to thy captain.With him, anon, you'll find me.
Eust.[After a Pause.]I know not what to answer.—Thou hast shakenMy manhood to the centre.—Follow, boy!Thy aim is honour; but the dreary road to't,Which thou must tread, does stir the father in me.'Tis such a nice and tickle point, betweenThe patriot and the parent, that, Heaven knows,I need a counsellor.—I'll to thy captain.With him, anon, you'll find me.
Eust.[After a Pause.]I know not what to answer.—Thou hast shaken
My manhood to the centre.—Follow, boy!
Thy aim is honour; but the dreary road to't,
Which thou must tread, does stir the father in me.
'Tis such a nice and tickle point, between
The patriot and the parent, that, Heaven knows,
I need a counsellor.—I'll to thy captain.
With him, anon, you'll find me.
[Exit.
La Gloire.So! how many a lad, with a fair beginning of life, comes to an untimely conclusion!—My poor Madelon, too! she little thinks that——
Madelonpeeping in.
Madelon.Hist! hist! La Gloire!
La Gloire.Eh?
Madelon.Why, where hast thou been, La Gloire? I have been seeking you all over the town. I feared you would get into danger. Finding the Governor's gate thrown open, and all the city in confusion, I e'en ventured in to look for you. Where hast thou been, La Gloire?
La Gloire.Been? no where—but I am going——
Madelon.Where, La Gloire?
La Gloire.A—a little way with my father. Hast heard the news, Madelon?
Madelon.Only in part. I hear the town has surrendered: and that six poor men are to be executed; and march from the town gates. But we shall then be in safety, La Gloire. Poor fellows! I would not see them go forth for the world!
La Gloire.Poor fellows!—a hem!—Ay, poor fellows! True, Madelon; I would not have thee shocked with the sight, I confess.
Madelon.But, pr'ythee, La Gloire, keep at home now with me. You are ever gadding. You soldiers are so wild and turbulent—How can you, La Gloire? You must be present, now, at this horrid ceremony?
La Gloire.Why, truly, I——I must be present;—but it will be for the last time, Madelon. I take little pleasure, in it, believe me.
Madelon.I would thou wouldst home with me! I have provided, out of thy bounty, a repast for us this evening. My father, who has ne'er stirred out these three weeks, is filled with joy for thy return;—he willsit at our table, La Gloire; he will give us his blessing, and wish us happy in marriage. Come, you shall not away, this evening, in sooth, now!
La Gloire.I must, Madelon; I must. The throng will press, and—and I may lose somewhat of value. 'Tis seldom a soldier's pocket is heavy; but I carry all my worldly goods about me. I would fain not lose it; so e'en be mistress on't till my return. Here is a casket;—with five years' wages from my captain; three quarters' pay from my regiment; and eleven marks, plucked from the boot of a dead English corporal: 'tis my whole fortune; keep it, Madelon, for fear of accidents: and if any cross accident ever should befall me, remember, you are heir apparent to the bulk of my property.
Madelon.But why thus particular? I would you would stay quiet with me!
La Gloire.But for this once, Madelon; and I shall be quiet ever after.—Kiss me. So;—Adieu!
Madelon.Adieu, La Gloire! Remember, now, at night——
La Gloire.Adieu!—At night!—Mercy on me!—should I stay three minutes longer, my heart would rescue my neck; for the breaking of one, would save the stretching of the other.
[Aside.—Exit.
Madelon.How rich my La Gloire has got in the wars! My father, too, has something to throw in at our wedding: and, when we meet, we shall be the happiest couple in Picardy.
I tremble to think, that my soldier's so bold;To see with what danger he gets all his gold;Yet danger all over, 'twill keep out the cold,And we shall be warm when we're married,For riches, 'tis true that I covet them not,Unless 'tis to better my dear soldier's lot;And he shall be master of all I have got,The very first moment we're married.My heart how it beats, but to look to the day,In church, when my father will give me away!But that I shall laugh at, I've heard many say,A day or two after we're married.
I tremble to think, that my soldier's so bold;To see with what danger he gets all his gold;Yet danger all over, 'twill keep out the cold,And we shall be warm when we're married,
I tremble to think, that my soldier's so bold;
To see with what danger he gets all his gold;
Yet danger all over, 'twill keep out the cold,
And we shall be warm when we're married,
For riches, 'tis true that I covet them not,Unless 'tis to better my dear soldier's lot;And he shall be master of all I have got,The very first moment we're married.
For riches, 'tis true that I covet them not,
Unless 'tis to better my dear soldier's lot;
And he shall be master of all I have got,
The very first moment we're married.
My heart how it beats, but to look to the day,In church, when my father will give me away!But that I shall laugh at, I've heard many say,A day or two after we're married.
My heart how it beats, but to look to the day,
In church, when my father will give me away!
But that I shall laugh at, I've heard many say,
A day or two after we're married.
[Exit.
Calais.
A Gate, leading out of the Town.
EnterCitizens.
1 Cit.Stand back; they are coming.
3 Cit.Nay, my masters, they will not forth, this quarter of an hour. Men seldom move lightly on such a heavy occasion.
4 Cit.Who are the two others that have filled up the number?
3 Cit.Marry, two more of old Eustache's family. His own son; and the other, as 'tis rumoured, a relation, in the town, that few of us are acquainted withal.
4 Cit.That's strange.
3 Cit.Why, ay; but when a man chuses a rope for his preferment, few are found envious enough to dispute the title with him.—By the rood! here they come!
EnterEustache de St. Pierre,Ribaumont,La Gloire,John d'Aire,J. Wissant,P. Wissant, going to execution: a Procession ofSoldiers,Friars,Nuns, &c. accompanying them.—A solemn March; then, a Halt.
Ribau.I pr'ythee, peace, Eustache! I fain would 'scapeObservance from the rabble. Hurry o'erThis irksome march; and straightway to the camp.
Ribau.I pr'ythee, peace, Eustache! I fain would 'scapeObservance from the rabble. Hurry o'erThis irksome march; and straightway to the camp.
Ribau.I pr'ythee, peace, Eustache! I fain would 'scape
Observance from the rabble. Hurry o'er
This irksome march; and straightway to the camp.
Eust.Enough—Set forth! We are engaged, my friends,Upon a business here, which most, I wot,Do think of moment; and we would not wasteThe time in idle ceremony. On!—Ere we are usher'd to the English camp,And most of you, I trust, will follow thither,—We will bestow the little time allow'd usIn manly leave-taking. Strike, and set onward!
Eust.Enough—Set forth! We are engaged, my friends,Upon a business here, which most, I wot,Do think of moment; and we would not wasteThe time in idle ceremony. On!—Ere we are usher'd to the English camp,And most of you, I trust, will follow thither,—We will bestow the little time allow'd usIn manly leave-taking. Strike, and set onward!
Eust.Enough—Set forth! We are engaged, my friends,
Upon a business here, which most, I wot,
Do think of moment; and we would not waste
The time in idle ceremony. On!—
Ere we are usher'd to the English camp,
And most of you, I trust, will follow thither,—
We will bestow the little time allow'd us
In manly leave-taking. Strike, and set onward!
Citizens.Bless our countrymen! Bless our deliverers!
Peace to the heroes! peace! who yield their blood,And perish, nobly, for their country's good!Peace to their noble souls! their bodies die;Their fame shall flourish long in memory;Recorded still, in future years,Green in a nation's gratitude, and tears.CHORUS.Sound! sound in solemn strains, and slow!Dully beat the muffled drum!Bid the hollow trumpet blow,In deaden'd tones, clear, firm, and low;—For, see! the patriot heros come!
Peace to the heroes! peace! who yield their blood,And perish, nobly, for their country's good!Peace to their noble souls! their bodies die;Their fame shall flourish long in memory;Recorded still, in future years,Green in a nation's gratitude, and tears.
Peace to the heroes! peace! who yield their blood,
And perish, nobly, for their country's good!
Peace to their noble souls! their bodies die;
Their fame shall flourish long in memory;
Recorded still, in future years,
Green in a nation's gratitude, and tears.
CHORUS.Sound! sound in solemn strains, and slow!Dully beat the muffled drum!Bid the hollow trumpet blow,In deaden'd tones, clear, firm, and low;—For, see! the patriot heros come!
CHORUS.
Sound! sound in solemn strains, and slow!
Dully beat the muffled drum!
Bid the hollow trumpet blow,
In deaden'd tones, clear, firm, and low;—
For, see! the patriot heros come!
[Towards the End of the Chorus, the Characters proceed on their March out of the Town; and when the last Persons of the Procession are going through the Gates, the Curtain drops.
An Apartment in the House ofJohn de Vienne.
EnterJulia, in Man's Apparel, andO'Carrol.
Julia.Come on; bestir thee, good fellow! Thou must be my guide, and conduct me.
O'Carrol.'Faith, and I'll conduct you, with all my heart and soul; and some good creature, I warrant, will be kind enough to show me the way.
Julia.But art thou well assured, O'Carrol, of what thou hast informed me?
O'Carrol.To be sure I am well assured; for I informed myself, and I never yet catched myself out intelling a lie. There was six of them, as tall fellows as any in France, with ugly ropes about their good-looking necks, going to the town-gates; and Count Ribaumont marched second in the handsome half dozen. The whole town followed them with their eyes, till they were as full of water as if they had been peeping into so many mustard pots. And so, madam, knowing he loves you better than dear life,(which, to be sure, he seems to hold cheap enough at present), and thinking you would be glad to hear the terrible news, why, I made all the haste I could to come and tell it to you.
Julia.And thus, in haste, have I equipped myself. Come, good O'Carrol;—dost think I shall 'scape discovery in these accoutrements?
O'Carrol.Escape!—By my soul, lady, one would think you had been a young man, from the very first day you were born. Och! what a piece of work a little trimming and drapery makes in a good fellow's fancy! A foot is a foot, all the world over;—but take the foot of the sweetest little creature that ever tripped over green sward, and if it doesn't play at bo-peep under a petticoat—'faith, I don't know the reason of it; but it gives a clean contrary turn to a man's imagination. But what is it you would be after now, Lady Julia?
Julia.Something I will do; and it must be speedy: at all hazards, we will to the English camp, O'Carrol:—opportunity must shape the rest.
O'Carrol.The camp?—O, 'faith, that's my element; and Heaven send us success in it! If an Irishman's prayers, lady, could make you happy, your little heart should soon be as light as a feather-bed.
Julia.I thank thee, my honest fellow: thy care for me shall not long go unrewarded.
O'Carrol.Now the devil fetch rewarding, say I! If a man does his best friends a piece of service, he must be an unconscionable sort of an honest fellow, tolook for more reward than the pleasure he gets in assisting them.
Julia.Well, well! each moment now is precious! Haste thee, O'Carrol; Time has wings.
O'Carrol.Och! be asey, madam; we'll take the ould fellow by the forelock, I warrant him. When honest gentlemen's business calls them on a small walk to the gallows, a man may set out a quarter of an hour behind them, and be certain of meeting them upon the road:—and, now I bethink me, madam, if we go out at the draw-bridge, from the citadel, hard by the house here, we may be at the camp, ere the poor souls have marched their body round the battlements.
Julia.Thou say'st well; and we will forth that way:'Twill be most private too. Thou'lt follow me, O'Carrol?
Julia.Thou say'st well; and we will forth that way:'Twill be most private too. Thou'lt follow me, O'Carrol?
Julia.Thou say'st well; and we will forth that way:
'Twill be most private too. Thou'lt follow me, O'Carrol?
O'Carrol.Ay, that I would, to the end of the wide world, and a thousand miles beyond it.
Julia.Yet, tarry here a while, till I prepare the means of our going forth. Join me a few minutes hence in the hall, O'Carrol.
And, Fortune, frown not on a poor weak woman!Who, if she fail in this, her last, sad struggle,Is so surrounded by a sea of griefThat she must sink for ever!
And, Fortune, frown not on a poor weak woman!Who, if she fail in this, her last, sad struggle,Is so surrounded by a sea of griefThat she must sink for ever!
And, Fortune, frown not on a poor weak woman!
Who, if she fail in this, her last, sad struggle,
Is so surrounded by a sea of grief
That she must sink for ever!
[Exit.
O'Carrol.And, sink or swim, I'll to the bottom along with you.—Och! what a sad thing it is to see sorrow wet the sweet cheeks of a woman! Faith, now, I can't make out that same crying, for the life of me. My sorrow is always of a dry sort; that gives me a sore throat, without ever-troubling my eyes about the business. The camp! Well, with all my heart: it won't be the first time I have been present at a bit of a bustle.
When I was at home, I was merry and frisky;My dad kept a pig, and my mother sold whisky:My uncle was rich, but would never be asy,Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey.Oh! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!My dear little Sheelah I thought would run crazy,When I trudged away with tough Corporal Casey.I march'd from Kilkenny, and as I was thinkingOn Sheelah, my heart in my bosom was sinking;But soon I was forced to look fresh as a daisy,For fear of a drubbing from Corporal Casey.Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!The devil go with him, I ne'er could be lazy,He stuck in my skirts so, ould Corporal Casey.We went into battle; I took the blows fairly,That fell on my pate, but they bother'd me rarely:And who should the first be that dropp'd? why, an plase ye,It was my good friend, honest Corporal Casey.Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!Thinks I, you are quiet, and I shall be asy;So eight years I fought, without Corporal Casey.
When I was at home, I was merry and frisky;My dad kept a pig, and my mother sold whisky:My uncle was rich, but would never be asy,Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey.Oh! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!My dear little Sheelah I thought would run crazy,When I trudged away with tough Corporal Casey.
When I was at home, I was merry and frisky;
My dad kept a pig, and my mother sold whisky:
My uncle was rich, but would never be asy,
Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey.
Oh! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!
My dear little Sheelah I thought would run crazy,
When I trudged away with tough Corporal Casey.
I march'd from Kilkenny, and as I was thinkingOn Sheelah, my heart in my bosom was sinking;But soon I was forced to look fresh as a daisy,For fear of a drubbing from Corporal Casey.Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!The devil go with him, I ne'er could be lazy,He stuck in my skirts so, ould Corporal Casey.
I march'd from Kilkenny, and as I was thinking
On Sheelah, my heart in my bosom was sinking;
But soon I was forced to look fresh as a daisy,
For fear of a drubbing from Corporal Casey.
Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!
The devil go with him, I ne'er could be lazy,
He stuck in my skirts so, ould Corporal Casey.
We went into battle; I took the blows fairly,That fell on my pate, but they bother'd me rarely:And who should the first be that dropp'd? why, an plase ye,It was my good friend, honest Corporal Casey.Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!Thinks I, you are quiet, and I shall be asy;So eight years I fought, without Corporal Casey.
We went into battle; I took the blows fairly,
That fell on my pate, but they bother'd me rarely:
And who should the first be that dropp'd? why, an plase ye,
It was my good friend, honest Corporal Casey.
Och! rub a dub, row de dow, Corporal Casey!
Thinks I, you are quiet, and I shall be asy;
So eight years I fought, without Corporal Casey.
[Exit.
The English Camp.
A Scaffold in the Back of the Scene:Two Workmendescend from it.
1 Work.There 'tis;—and finished: as pleasing a piece of work, as man could wish to turn out of hand. If King Edward, (Heaven bless him!) give me not a pension for this, let'n make the next scaffold himself. Mass! I would (with reverence be it spoken), build a scaffold, and fix a gallows, with any king in Christendom.
2 Work.Yea, marry, if he had not served his time to the trade.
1 Work.Yea, or if he had. I have been prime gallows maker, and principal hangman, now, nine-and-twenty years.—Thank Heaven! neighbour, I have long been notorious.
2 Work.Thou say'st true, indeed. Thy enemies cannot deny thee that.
1 Work.And why, I pray you? why have I been so?
2 Work.Mass, I know not! I think 'tis thy good luck.
1 Work.Tut, I will tell thee. My parents, I thank them, bred me to the gallows: marry, then, how was it?—why, look you, I took delight in my business.—An you would be a good workman, ever, while you live, take a delight in your business. I have been an honest, pains-taking man, neighbour. No one is notorious, without taking pains for it.
2 Work.Truly, then, I fear my character is naught. I never can bring myself to take pains for it.
1 Work.Thou art the more to be pitied. I nevermade but one small mistake, since I entered on business.
2 Work.I pr'ythee, now, tell me that.
1 Work.'Twas on execution day; we were much thronged, and the signal was given full soon; when, a pize on it! I whips me, in haste, the halter over the neck of an honest stander-by:—and I jerks me him up to the top of a twenty foot gibbet. Marry, the true rogue escaped by't; for 'twas a full hour ere the error was noted. But, hast heard who the six be, that will be here anon?
2 Work.Only that they be citizens. They are e'en now coming hitherward. Some of our men have seen them: they march, as 'tis reported, wondrous doleful.
1 Work.No matter; tarry till they see my work;—that's all. An that do not content them, mark them for sour knaves. An a man be not satisfied when a sets foot on my scaffold, say he is hard to please. Rot them, your condemned men, now-a-days, have no discernment. I would I had the hanging of all my fellow craft! I should then have some judges of my skill; and merit would not go praiseless.—[A Flourish.]—So!—the king is coming—stand clear, now, neighbour:—an the king like not my scaffold, I am no true man.
[They go on the Scaffold.
EnterKing Edward,Queen,Harcourt,Sir Walter Manny,Arundel,Warwick,Train-bearers, Standards, &c.
King.Yes, good Philippa, 'tis our firm decree,And a full wise one too;—'tis but just recompense,For near twelve weary months, their stubbornnessHas caused us linger out before their city.Should we not now resent, in future storyOur English would be chronicled as dullards;—These French would mock us for the snails of war,Who bring our houses on our sluggish backs,To winter it before their mould'ring walls;Nay, every village, circled by a ditch,Would think itself a town impregnable;Check the full vigour of our march, and worryOur armies with resistance.
King.Yes, good Philippa, 'tis our firm decree,And a full wise one too;—'tis but just recompense,For near twelve weary months, their stubbornnessHas caused us linger out before their city.Should we not now resent, in future storyOur English would be chronicled as dullards;—These French would mock us for the snails of war,Who bring our houses on our sluggish backs,To winter it before their mould'ring walls;Nay, every village, circled by a ditch,Would think itself a town impregnable;Check the full vigour of our march, and worryOur armies with resistance.
King.Yes, good Philippa, 'tis our firm decree,
And a full wise one too;—'tis but just recompense,
For near twelve weary months, their stubbornness
Has caused us linger out before their city.
Should we not now resent, in future story
Our English would be chronicled as dullards;—
These French would mock us for the snails of war,
Who bring our houses on our sluggish backs,
To winter it before their mould'ring walls;
Nay, every village, circled by a ditch,
Would think itself a town impregnable;
Check the full vigour of our march, and worry
Our armies with resistance.
Queen.And yet, my liege, I cannot chuse but pityThe wretched men, who now must suffer for it.
Queen.And yet, my liege, I cannot chuse but pityThe wretched men, who now must suffer for it.
Queen.And yet, my liege, I cannot chuse but pity
The wretched men, who now must suffer for it.
King.Justice, madam,Minute in her stern exercise of office,Is comprehensive in effect; and whenShe points her sword to the particular,She aims at general good.—[Solemn Music, at a Distance.But, hark! they come.Are they within our lines?
King.Justice, madam,Minute in her stern exercise of office,Is comprehensive in effect; and whenShe points her sword to the particular,She aims at general good.—[Solemn Music, at a Distance.But, hark! they come.Are they within our lines?
King.Justice, madam,
Minute in her stern exercise of office,
Is comprehensive in effect; and when
She points her sword to the particular,
She aims at general good.—
[Solemn Music, at a Distance.
But, hark! they come.
Are they within our lines?
Sir W.They are, my liege.
King.Deliver up Sir John de Vienne.
[King EdwardandQueenseat themselves on a Throne, erected in the Camp, on the occasion of the Execution.
EnterEustache de St. Pierre, with the Keys;Ribaumont,La Gloire,John d'Aire,J. Wissant, andP. Wissant, with Halters round their Necks; a Multitude of French following.
King.Are these the six must suffer?
Eust.Suffer!—no:——We do embrace our fate: we glory in't.They who stand forward, sir, to yield their lives,A willing forfeit, for their country's safety,When they meet death, meet honour, and rejoiceIn the encounter. Suffer, is a termThe upright, and undaunted spirit, blotsFrom death's vocabulary.
Eust.Suffer!—no:——We do embrace our fate: we glory in't.They who stand forward, sir, to yield their lives,A willing forfeit, for their country's safety,When they meet death, meet honour, and rejoiceIn the encounter. Suffer, is a termThe upright, and undaunted spirit, blotsFrom death's vocabulary.
Eust.Suffer!—no:——
We do embrace our fate: we glory in't.
They who stand forward, sir, to yield their lives,
A willing forfeit, for their country's safety,
When they meet death, meet honour, and rejoice
In the encounter. Suffer, is a term
The upright, and undaunted spirit, blots
From death's vocabulary.
King.Now, beshrew thee, knave!Thou dost speak bluntly.
King.Now, beshrew thee, knave!Thou dost speak bluntly.
King.Now, beshrew thee, knave!
Thou dost speak bluntly.
Eust.Ay, and cheerily.But to our purpose.—I am bidden, sir,I and my noble comrades, here, of Calais,Thus lowly, at your feet, to tender to youOur city's keys;—[Kneels and lays the Keys at the Foot of the Throne.]—and they do guard a treasureWell worth a king's acceptance; for they yieldA golden opportunity to mightinessOf comforting the wretched. Take but these,And turn our ponderous portals on the hinge,And you will find, in every street, a document,A lesson, at each step, for iron powerTo feel for fellow men:—Our wasted soldiersDropping upon their watch; the dying motherWailing her famish'd child; the meagre sonGrasping his father's hand in agony,Till their sunk eyes exchange a feeble gleamOf love and blessing, and they both expire.
Eust.Ay, and cheerily.But to our purpose.—I am bidden, sir,I and my noble comrades, here, of Calais,Thus lowly, at your feet, to tender to youOur city's keys;—[Kneels and lays the Keys at the Foot of the Throne.]—and they do guard a treasureWell worth a king's acceptance; for they yieldA golden opportunity to mightinessOf comforting the wretched. Take but these,And turn our ponderous portals on the hinge,And you will find, in every street, a document,A lesson, at each step, for iron powerTo feel for fellow men:—Our wasted soldiersDropping upon their watch; the dying motherWailing her famish'd child; the meagre sonGrasping his father's hand in agony,Till their sunk eyes exchange a feeble gleamOf love and blessing, and they both expire.
Eust.Ay, and cheerily.
But to our purpose.—I am bidden, sir,
I and my noble comrades, here, of Calais,
Thus lowly, at your feet, to tender to you
Our city's keys;—[Kneels and lays the Keys at the Foot of the Throne.]—and they do guard a treasure
Well worth a king's acceptance; for they yield
A golden opportunity to mightiness
Of comforting the wretched. Take but these,
And turn our ponderous portals on the hinge,
And you will find, in every street, a document,
A lesson, at each step, for iron power
To feel for fellow men:—Our wasted soldiers
Dropping upon their watch; the dying mother
Wailing her famish'd child; the meagre son
Grasping his father's hand in agony,
Till their sunk eyes exchange a feeble gleam
Of love and blessing, and they both expire.
King.Your citizens may thank themselves for't; wilfulnessDoes ever thus recoil upon itself.
King.Your citizens may thank themselves for't; wilfulnessDoes ever thus recoil upon itself.
King.Your citizens may thank themselves for't; wilfulness
Does ever thus recoil upon itself.
Eust.Sworn liegemen to their master, and their monarch,They have perform'd their duty, sir. I trustYou, who yourself are king, can scarcely blamePoor fellows for their loyalty. 'Tis plainYou do not, sir; for now, your royal natureO'erflows in clemency; and setting byAll thought of crushing those beneath your feet,Which, in the heat and giddiness of conquest,The victor sometimes is seen guilty of;Our town finds grace and pity at your hands.Your noble bounty, sir, is pleas'd considerSome certain trifles we have suffer'd; suchAs a bare twelvemonth's siege—a lack of food;Some foolish grey-beards dead by't; some few heapsOf perish'd soldiers; and, humanely weighingThese nothings as misfortunes, spare our people:Simply exacting, that six useless citizens,Mere logs in the community, and prizedFor nothing but their honesty, come forth,Like malefactors, and be gibbetted!
Eust.Sworn liegemen to their master, and their monarch,They have perform'd their duty, sir. I trustYou, who yourself are king, can scarcely blamePoor fellows for their loyalty. 'Tis plainYou do not, sir; for now, your royal natureO'erflows in clemency; and setting byAll thought of crushing those beneath your feet,Which, in the heat and giddiness of conquest,The victor sometimes is seen guilty of;Our town finds grace and pity at your hands.Your noble bounty, sir, is pleas'd considerSome certain trifles we have suffer'd; suchAs a bare twelvemonth's siege—a lack of food;Some foolish grey-beards dead by't; some few heapsOf perish'd soldiers; and, humanely weighingThese nothings as misfortunes, spare our people:Simply exacting, that six useless citizens,Mere logs in the community, and prizedFor nothing but their honesty, come forth,Like malefactors, and be gibbetted!
Eust.Sworn liegemen to their master, and their monarch,
They have perform'd their duty, sir. I trust
You, who yourself are king, can scarcely blame
Poor fellows for their loyalty. 'Tis plain
You do not, sir; for now, your royal nature
O'erflows in clemency; and setting by
All thought of crushing those beneath your feet,
Which, in the heat and giddiness of conquest,
The victor sometimes is seen guilty of;
Our town finds grace and pity at your hands.
Your noble bounty, sir, is pleas'd consider
Some certain trifles we have suffer'd; such
As a bare twelvemonth's siege—a lack of food;
Some foolish grey-beards dead by't; some few heaps
Of perish'd soldiers; and, humanely weighing
These nothings as misfortunes, spare our people:
Simply exacting, that six useless citizens,
Mere logs in the community, and prized
For nothing but their honesty, come forth,
Like malefactors, and be gibbetted!
King.Villain and slave! for this thy daring taunt,(Howe'er before we might incline to listen),We henceforth shut the ear to supplication.
King.Villain and slave! for this thy daring taunt,(Howe'er before we might incline to listen),We henceforth shut the ear to supplication.
King.Villain and slave! for this thy daring taunt,
(Howe'er before we might incline to listen),
We henceforth shut the ear to supplication.
Eust.Mighty sir!We march'd not forth to supplicate, but die.Trust me, king,We could not covet aught, in your disposal,Would swell our future name with half the gloryAs this same sentence, which, we thank you for't,You have bestow'd, unask'd.
Eust.Mighty sir!We march'd not forth to supplicate, but die.Trust me, king,We could not covet aught, in your disposal,Would swell our future name with half the gloryAs this same sentence, which, we thank you for't,You have bestow'd, unask'd.
Eust.Mighty sir!
We march'd not forth to supplicate, but die.
Trust me, king,
We could not covet aught, in your disposal,
Would swell our future name with half the glory
As this same sentence, which, we thank you for't,
You have bestow'd, unask'd.
King.Conduct them straight to execution!
La Gloire.[Advancing to the left ofEustache.]Father!
Eust.How now? thou shakest!
La Gloire.'Tisn't for myself, then.—For my own part, I am a man: but I cannot look on our relations, and my captain, and on you, father, without feeling a something, that makes a woman of me.—But I——
Eust.Briefly, boy; what is't?
La Gloire.Give me thy hand, father! So—[Kisses it.]—And now, if I part with it, while a puff of breath remains in my body, I shall lose one of the most sorrowful comforts, that ever poor fellow in jeopardy fixed his heart upon. Were I but well assured poor Madelon would recover the news, I could go off as tough as the stoutest.
Rib.[Advances to the right ofEustache.]Farewell, old heart! thy body doth incaseThe noblest spirit soldier e'er could boast,To face grim death withal. Inform our fellows,At the last moment given, on the scaffold,We will embrace, and——[A Muffled Drum beats.——Hark! the signal beats.
Rib.[Advances to the right ofEustache.]Farewell, old heart! thy body doth incaseThe noblest spirit soldier e'er could boast,To face grim death withal. Inform our fellows,At the last moment given, on the scaffold,We will embrace, and——[A Muffled Drum beats.——Hark! the signal beats.
Rib.[Advances to the right ofEustache.]
Farewell, old heart! thy body doth incase
The noblest spirit soldier e'er could boast,
To face grim death withal. Inform our fellows,
At the last moment given, on the scaffold,
We will embrace, and——
[A Muffled Drum beats.
——Hark! the signal beats.
Eust.Lead on.
[They march up to the Scaffold.
Soldier.[Without.]You cannot pass.
Julia.[Without.]Nay, give me way!
EnterJuliaandO'Carrol.
Julia.Stay, stay your hands! desist, or——
King.How now!Wherefore this boldness?
King.How now!Wherefore this boldness?
King.How now!
Wherefore this boldness?
Julia.Great and mighty King!Behold a youth much wrong'd. Men do esteemThe Monarch's throne as the pure fount and springWhence justice flows: and here I cry for it.
Julia.Great and mighty King!Behold a youth much wrong'd. Men do esteemThe Monarch's throne as the pure fount and springWhence justice flows: and here I cry for it.
Julia.Great and mighty King!
Behold a youth much wrong'd. Men do esteem
The Monarch's throne as the pure fount and spring
Whence justice flows: and here I cry for it.
King.What is the suit thus urges?
Julia.Please you, sir,Suspend a while this fatal ceremony,—For therein lies my grief,—and I will on.
Julia.Please you, sir,Suspend a while this fatal ceremony,—For therein lies my grief,—and I will on.
Julia.Please you, sir,
Suspend a while this fatal ceremony,—
For therein lies my grief,—and I will on.
King.Pause ye a while.—Young man, proceed.
Julia.Now, Heaven!Make firm my woman's heart![Aside.]—Most royal sir!Although the cause of this my suit doth woundMy private bosom, yet it doth involve,And couple with me, a right noble sharer.—'Tis you, great sir, you are yourself abused;My countrymen do palter with thee, King:——You did requireSix of our citizens, first in repute,And best consider'd of our town, as victimsOf your high-throned anger. Here is one[Pointing toRibaumont.I single out, and challenge to the proof;—Let him stand forth;—and here I do avouchHe is no member of our city:He does usurp another's right; defeatsYour mighty purpose: and your rage, which thirstedFor a rich draught of vengeance, must be servedWith the mere dregs of our community.
Julia.Now, Heaven!Make firm my woman's heart![Aside.]—Most royal sir!Although the cause of this my suit doth woundMy private bosom, yet it doth involve,And couple with me, a right noble sharer.—'Tis you, great sir, you are yourself abused;My countrymen do palter with thee, King:——You did requireSix of our citizens, first in repute,And best consider'd of our town, as victimsOf your high-throned anger. Here is one[Pointing toRibaumont.I single out, and challenge to the proof;—Let him stand forth;—and here I do avouchHe is no member of our city:He does usurp another's right; defeatsYour mighty purpose: and your rage, which thirstedFor a rich draught of vengeance, must be servedWith the mere dregs of our community.
Julia.Now, Heaven!
Make firm my woman's heart![Aside.]—Most royal sir!
Although the cause of this my suit doth wound
My private bosom, yet it doth involve,
And couple with me, a right noble sharer.—
'Tis you, great sir, you are yourself abused;
My countrymen do palter with thee, King:——
You did require
Six of our citizens, first in repute,
And best consider'd of our town, as victims
Of your high-throned anger. Here is one
[Pointing toRibaumont.
I single out, and challenge to the proof;—
Let him stand forth;—and here I do avouch
He is no member of our city:
He does usurp another's right; defeats
Your mighty purpose: and your rage, which thirsted
For a rich draught of vengeance, must be served
With the mere dregs of our community.
Ribau.[Advances.]Shame! I shall burst!—the dregs!——
King.Thou self-will'd fool,Who would run headlong into death, what art thou?
King.Thou self-will'd fool,Who would run headlong into death, what art thou?
King.Thou self-will'd fool,
Who would run headlong into death, what art thou?
Ribau.A man:—let that content you, sir!—'Tis bloodYou crave,—and with an appetite so keen,'Tis strange to find you nice about its quality.But for this slave,Who thus has dared belie me, did not circumstanceRein in my wish—(O grant me patience, Heaven!The dregs!)—now, by my soul! I'd crush the reptileBeneath my feet; now, while his poisonous tongueIs darting forth its venom'd slander on me.
Ribau.A man:—let that content you, sir!—'Tis bloodYou crave,—and with an appetite so keen,'Tis strange to find you nice about its quality.But for this slave,Who thus has dared belie me, did not circumstanceRein in my wish—(O grant me patience, Heaven!The dregs!)—now, by my soul! I'd crush the reptileBeneath my feet; now, while his poisonous tongueIs darting forth its venom'd slander on me.
Ribau.A man:—let that content you, sir!—'Tis blood
You crave,—and with an appetite so keen,
'Tis strange to find you nice about its quality.
But for this slave,
Who thus has dared belie me, did not circumstance
Rein in my wish—(O grant me patience, Heaven!
The dregs!)—now, by my soul! I'd crush the reptile
Beneath my feet; now, while his poisonous tongue
Is darting forth its venom'd slander on me.
King.I will be satisfied in this. Speak, fellow?Say, what is thy condition?
King.I will be satisfied in this. Speak, fellow?Say, what is thy condition?
King.I will be satisfied in this. Speak, fellow?
Say, what is thy condition?
Ribau.Truly, sir,'Tis waste of royal breath to make this stir,For one, whom some few minutes hence your sentenceMust sink to nothing. Henceforth I am dumbTo all interrogation.
Ribau.Truly, sir,'Tis waste of royal breath to make this stir,For one, whom some few minutes hence your sentenceMust sink to nothing. Henceforth I am dumbTo all interrogation.
Ribau.Truly, sir,
'Tis waste of royal breath to make this stir,
For one, whom some few minutes hence your sentence
Must sink to nothing. Henceforth I am dumb
To all interrogation.
King.Now, by our diadem!—but answer you.What is his state?—Say, of whose wreched placeIs he the bold usurper?
King.Now, by our diadem!—but answer you.What is his state?—Say, of whose wreched placeIs he the bold usurper?
King.Now, by our diadem!—but answer you.
What is his state?—Say, of whose wreched place
Is he the bold usurper?
Julia.Sir, of mine.He does despoil me of my title; comesBedeck'd in my just dues; which, as a citizen,(A young one though I be,) I here lay claim to.I am your victim, sir; dismiss this man,Who, haply, comes, in pity to my youth,And plucks the glory from me, which this ceremonyWould grace my name withal, and let me die.
Julia.Sir, of mine.He does despoil me of my title; comesBedeck'd in my just dues; which, as a citizen,(A young one though I be,) I here lay claim to.I am your victim, sir; dismiss this man,Who, haply, comes, in pity to my youth,And plucks the glory from me, which this ceremonyWould grace my name withal, and let me die.
Julia.Sir, of mine.
He does despoil me of my title; comes
Bedeck'd in my just dues; which, as a citizen,
(A young one though I be,) I here lay claim to.
I am your victim, sir; dismiss this man,
Who, haply, comes, in pity to my youth,
And plucks the glory from me, which this ceremony
Would grace my name withal, and let me die.
O'Carrol.Die!—Och, the devil! did I come to the camp for this?—Madam, dear, dear madam!—
[Aside.
King.The glory!—Why, by Heaven! these headstrong FrenchToy with our punishments!For thee, rash stripling! who dost brave our vengeance,Prepare to meet it. Yoke thee with this knave,Whose insolence hath roused our spleen, and, straight,You both shall suffer for't together.
King.The glory!—Why, by Heaven! these headstrong FrenchToy with our punishments!For thee, rash stripling! who dost brave our vengeance,Prepare to meet it. Yoke thee with this knave,Whose insolence hath roused our spleen, and, straight,You both shall suffer for't together.
King.The glory!—Why, by Heaven! these headstrong French
Toy with our punishments!
For thee, rash stripling! who dost brave our vengeance,
Prepare to meet it. Yoke thee with this knave,
Whose insolence hath roused our spleen, and, straight,
You both shall suffer for't together.
Julia.[Kneeling.]Sir!Ere I do meet my fate, upon my kneesI make one poor request. This man, great sir!(Tho' now, there's reason why he knows me not,)I own doth touch me nearly.—I do owe himA debt of gratitude;—'twould shock me soreTo see him in his agony;—so please you,Command, that, in the order of our deaths,I may precede him.
Julia.[Kneeling.]Sir!Ere I do meet my fate, upon my kneesI make one poor request. This man, great sir!(Tho' now, there's reason why he knows me not,)I own doth touch me nearly.—I do owe himA debt of gratitude;—'twould shock me soreTo see him in his agony;—so please you,Command, that, in the order of our deaths,I may precede him.
Julia.[Kneeling.]Sir!
Ere I do meet my fate, upon my knees
I make one poor request. This man, great sir!
(Tho' now, there's reason why he knows me not,)
I own doth touch me nearly.—I do owe him
A debt of gratitude;—'twould shock me sore
To see him in his agony;—so please you,
Command, that, in the order of our deaths,
I may precede him.
King.Well;—so be it, then.—Guards! lead them forth.
King.Well;—so be it, then.—Guards! lead them forth.
King.Well;—so be it, then.—
Guards! lead them forth.
Julia.And might he—oh, dread sir!Might he but live, I then should be at peace.
Julia.And might he—oh, dread sir!Might he but live, I then should be at peace.
Julia.And might he—oh, dread sir!
Might he but live, I then should be at peace.
King.Conduct them to their fate.
King.Conduct them to their fate.
King.Conduct them to their fate.
Julia.[Rises.]Then, ere we go, a word at parting;—For here your spleen o'erleaps the bound of prudence.The blood you now would spill, is pure and noble;Nor will the shedding of it lack avengers.Shame on disguise! off with't, my lord![ToRibaumont.]—BeholdOur France's foremost champion: and remember,In many a hardy fight, the gallant deeds(For fame has blown them loudly King!) of Ribaumont.Oft has he put you to't:—nay, late, at Cressy,Ask of your Black Prince Edward, there, how longCount Ribaumont and he were point to point.He has attack'd our foe; reliev'd our people;Succour'd our town, till cruel disappointment,Where he had fix'd his gallant heart, did turn himWild with despairing love. Old John de VienneDenied his daughter to him;—drove him hither,To meet your cruelty;—and now, that daughter,Grown desperate as he, doth brave it, King!And we will die together.
Julia.[Rises.]Then, ere we go, a word at parting;—For here your spleen o'erleaps the bound of prudence.The blood you now would spill, is pure and noble;Nor will the shedding of it lack avengers.Shame on disguise! off with't, my lord![ToRibaumont.]—BeholdOur France's foremost champion: and remember,In many a hardy fight, the gallant deeds(For fame has blown them loudly King!) of Ribaumont.Oft has he put you to't:—nay, late, at Cressy,Ask of your Black Prince Edward, there, how longCount Ribaumont and he were point to point.He has attack'd our foe; reliev'd our people;Succour'd our town, till cruel disappointment,Where he had fix'd his gallant heart, did turn himWild with despairing love. Old John de VienneDenied his daughter to him;—drove him hither,To meet your cruelty;—and now, that daughter,Grown desperate as he, doth brave it, King!And we will die together.
Julia.[Rises.]Then, ere we go, a word at parting;—
For here your spleen o'erleaps the bound of prudence.
The blood you now would spill, is pure and noble;
Nor will the shedding of it lack avengers.
Shame on disguise! off with't, my lord![ToRibaumont.]—Behold
Our France's foremost champion: and remember,
In many a hardy fight, the gallant deeds
(For fame has blown them loudly King!) of Ribaumont.
Oft has he put you to't:—nay, late, at Cressy,
Ask of your Black Prince Edward, there, how long
Count Ribaumont and he were point to point.
He has attack'd our foe; reliev'd our people;
Succour'd our town, till cruel disappointment,
Where he had fix'd his gallant heart, did turn him
Wild with despairing love. Old John de Vienne
Denied his daughter to him;—drove him hither,
To meet your cruelty;—and now, that daughter,
Grown desperate as he, doth brave it, King!
And we will die together.
[Runs and embracesRibaumont.
Ribau.Heaven!—my Julia!Art thou then true?—O give me utterance!Now, fortune, do thy worst!—[Throws off his Disguise.You cannot, King!You dare not, for your life, lay savage handsOn female innocence!—and, for myself,E'en use your will.
Ribau.Heaven!—my Julia!Art thou then true?—O give me utterance!Now, fortune, do thy worst!—[Throws off his Disguise.You cannot, King!You dare not, for your life, lay savage handsOn female innocence!—and, for myself,E'en use your will.
Ribau.Heaven!—my Julia!
Art thou then true?—O give me utterance!
Now, fortune, do thy worst!—
[Throws off his Disguise.
You cannot, King!
You dare not, for your life, lay savage hands
On female innocence!—and, for myself,
E'en use your will.
[Kingdescends from the Throne;Harcourtkneels and offers his Arm; and theQueendescends, and goes opposite to theKing.
King.Lady, you are free:——Our British Knights are famed for courtesy;And it will ne'er, I trust, be said an EnglishmanDenied protection to a woman. YouMust, under guard, my lord! abide our pleasure:—For the remainder, they have heard our will,And they must suffer: 'tis but fit we prove,Spite of their obstinate and close defence,Our English excellence.
King.Lady, you are free:——Our British Knights are famed for courtesy;And it will ne'er, I trust, be said an EnglishmanDenied protection to a woman. YouMust, under guard, my lord! abide our pleasure:—For the remainder, they have heard our will,And they must suffer: 'tis but fit we prove,Spite of their obstinate and close defence,Our English excellence.
King.Lady, you are free:——
Our British Knights are famed for courtesy;
And it will ne'er, I trust, be said an Englishman
Denied protection to a woman. You
Must, under guard, my lord! abide our pleasure:—
For the remainder, they have heard our will,
And they must suffer: 'tis but fit we prove,
Spite of their obstinate and close defence,
Our English excellence.
Queen.[Kneels.]Oh! then, my liege,Prove it in mercy.War, noble sir! when too far push'd, is butchery:When manly victory o'erleaps its limits,The tyrant blasts the laurels of the conqueror.Let it not dwell within your thoughts, my liege,Thus to oppress these men. And, royal sir!Since you were free to promiseWhatever boon I begg'd,—now, on my knee,I beg it, sir. Release these wretched men:Make me the means of cheering the unhappy:And, though my claim were tenfold what it isUpon your bounty, 'twould reward me nobly.
Queen.[Kneels.]Oh! then, my liege,Prove it in mercy.War, noble sir! when too far push'd, is butchery:When manly victory o'erleaps its limits,The tyrant blasts the laurels of the conqueror.Let it not dwell within your thoughts, my liege,Thus to oppress these men. And, royal sir!Since you were free to promiseWhatever boon I begg'd,—now, on my knee,I beg it, sir. Release these wretched men:Make me the means of cheering the unhappy:And, though my claim were tenfold what it isUpon your bounty, 'twould reward me nobly.
Queen.[Kneels.]Oh! then, my liege,
Prove it in mercy.
War, noble sir! when too far push'd, is butchery:
When manly victory o'erleaps its limits,
The tyrant blasts the laurels of the conqueror.
Let it not dwell within your thoughts, my liege,
Thus to oppress these men. And, royal sir!
Since you were free to promise
Whatever boon I begg'd,—now, on my knee,
I beg it, sir. Release these wretched men:
Make me the means of cheering the unhappy:
And, though my claim were tenfold what it is
Upon your bounty, 'twould reward me nobly.
King.Rise, madam. Tho' it was our fix'd intentTo awe these French, by terrible example,Our promise still is sacred, good Philippa.Your suit is won; and we relax our rigour.——Let them pass free; while we do here pronounceA general pardon.
King.Rise, madam. Tho' it was our fix'd intentTo awe these French, by terrible example,Our promise still is sacred, good Philippa.Your suit is won; and we relax our rigour.——Let them pass free; while we do here pronounceA general pardon.
King.Rise, madam. Tho' it was our fix'd intent
To awe these French, by terrible example,
Our promise still is sacred, good Philippa.
Your suit is won; and we relax our rigour.——
Let them pass free; while we do here pronounce
A general pardon.
La Gloire.A pardon! no!—Oh diable!—My father! and my commander too!—Huzza!—[Takes the Rope from his Father's Neck, then from his own, and runs down with the Three Kinsmen.]—-Oh! that I should live to unrope my poor old father, and master!
[Runs toRibaumont, and takes the Rope off his Neck.
EnterMadelon.
[She andLa Gloirerush into each other's Arms.
Madelon.Oh! my poor La Gloire!—My tears—
La Gloire.That's right! Cry, Madelon!—cry for joy, wench!—Old Eustache is safe!—my Captain and relations free!—Here's a whole bundle of honest necks recovered: mine's tossed in, in the lump; and we'll be married, Madelon, to-morrow.
King.Now, my lord! for you:—We have, I trust, some influence here;Nor will we quit your town, until we seeYour marriage solemnized—
King.Now, my lord! for you:—We have, I trust, some influence here;Nor will we quit your town, until we seeYour marriage solemnized—
King.Now, my lord! for you:—
We have, I trust, some influence here;
Nor will we quit your town, until we see
Your marriage solemnized—
[ToRibaumont.
O'Carrol.Well, if I didn't know what crying was before, I have found it out at last.—'Faith it has a mighty pleasant relieving sort of a feel with it.