Let us forget an Englishman could break them,
And losing his remembrance, lose the shame.
My lords, I have dispatches in my hand,
Advising that the nuncio-cardinal,
Good Perigort, is now arriv'd at Poitiers,
And means to interpose in our behalf.
Aud. His interposing is a gen'rous office,
And I applaud it; but, believe me, prince,
Our foes will rate their mercy much too high.
I'd hope as soon a tiger, tasting blood,
Can feel compassion, and release his prey,
As that a Frenchman will forego advantage.
Prince. I've by the messenger that brought my
Sent him the terms on which I warrant treating.
The sum is, my consent to render back
The castles, towns, and plunder we have taken,
Since marching out of Bourdeaux: and to plight
My faith, that I, for seven succeeding years,
Will wield no hostile sword against their crown.
Sal. It is too much, my prince, it is too much.
Give o'er such traffic for inglorious safety.
Or let us die, or conquer.
Rely upon a prince and soldier's promise,
That caution shan't betray us into meanness.
Heav'n knows, for me, I value life so little,
That I would spend it as an idle breath,
To serve my king, my country, nay, my friend.
"To calls like these our honour bids us answer,
"Where ev'ry hazard challenges renown.'
But sure the voice of Heav'n and cry of Nature,
Are loud against the sacrifice of thousands
I have a double delegated trust,
And must account to Heav'n and to my father,
For lives ignobly sav'd, or madly lost.
'Till Perigort shall therefore bring their terms,
Suspend we all resolves, but those receiv'd:
Determination must be expeditious:
For know our stock of stores will barely reach
To furnish out the present day's subsistence.
Aud. If so, necessity, the last sad guide
Of all misfortune's children, will command.
Chan. We must submit to what wise Heav'n de
Prince. Let that great duty but direct the mind,
And men will all be happily resign'd:
Accept whate'er the Almighty deigns to give,
And die contented, or contented live:
Embrace the lot his Providence ordains,
If deck'd with laurels, or depress'd with chains,
Ínur'd to labour, or indulg'd with rest,
And think each moment he decrees, the best. [Exeunt.
The French Camp, Enter ATHENS and RIBEMONT.
LORD Constable, I was not in the presence.
When Perigort had audience of the king,
Inform me, for I wish to know, does peace
Her olive-garland weave? Or must the sword
Be kept unsheath'd, and blood-fed vengeance live?
Ath. The king expecting me, I cannot tarry
To let your lordship know particulars;
But the good father, who even now set forward,
Carries such terms as, from my soul, I wish
Young Edward may accept: for 'tis resolv'd,
If they're rejected, instant to attack them.
Yonder's the fugitive, I see, advancing,
Who left their camp this morning. If we fight,
And you have there a friend you wish to save,
This man may point you to his post. Farewell. [Exit.
Rib. This man- -By Heav'n, there's treason in
his aspect!
That cheerless gloom, those eyes that pore on earth, That bended body, and those folded arms,
Are indications of a tortur'd mind,
And blazon equal villany and shame.
In what a dire condition is the wretch,
Who, in the mirror of reflection, sees
The hideous stains of a polluted soul !
To corners then, as does the loathsome toad,
He crawls in silence: there sequester'd lies
"The foamy ferment of his pois'nous gall,"
Hating himself, and fearing fellowship.
Arn. What have I done! And where is my reward? Charney withholds his daughter from my arms, My flatter'd recompence for-Hold, my brain! Thought that by timely coming might have sav’d me, Is now too late, when all its office serves
But to awaken horror!
Rib. I'll accost him.
Are you an Englishman ?
Arn. I had that name,
(Oh, killing question)
Rib. Lost it indeed!
Arn. Illustrious Ribemont !
(For was your person less rever'd and known
By every son of Britain, on your brow
That splendid token of renown you wear,
Would be your herald)-Pity, if you can,
A wretch-the most undone of all mankind.
Rib. 1 much mistake your visage, or I've seen you
In near attendance on the Prince of Wales.
Arn. I was indeed,-(Oh, scandal to confess it)
I was his follower, was his humble friend;
He favour'd, cherish'd,-lov'd me!-Heav'nly pow'rs! How shall I give my guilty story utterance!-
Level your fiery bolts !-Transfix me here!
Or hurl me howling to the hell I merit.
Rib. Invoke no pow'r, a conscience such as thine Is hell enough for mortal to endure.
But let me ask thee, for my wonder prompts me,
What bait affords the world, that could induce thee
To wrong so godlike and so good a master?
Arn. True, he is all, is godlike, and is good!
Edward, my royal master, is indeed
A prince beyond example ! Yet your heart,
If it has ever felt the power of beauty,
Must mitigate the crime of raging love.
Rib. Love!-Thou lost wretch!-And could so frail a fire
Consume whate'er was great and manly in thee?
Blot virtue out, and root each nobler passion
Forth from thy mind? The thirst of bright renown?
A patriot fond affection for thy country?
Zeal for thy monarch's glory? And the tie
Of sacred friendship-by thy prince enobled ?
Begone, and hide thy ignominious head,
Where human eye may never penetrate;
Avoid society, for all mankind
Will fly the fellowship of one like thee.
Arn. Heav'n! wherefore said'st thou that we must
And yet made woman?
Rib. Why accuse you Heav'n?
Curse your inglorious heart for wanting fire,
The fire that animates the nobly brave!
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