For to deserve and give is equal favour.
But let me ask thee of thy beauteous charge:
How has the noble Mariana borne
Captive calamity?
Arn. With resignation
Worthy her birth and dignity of spirit:
Forgetting her misfortunes, all her talk
Turns on the topic of your kind protection.
Prince. Let it extend to all that can relieve
The mind from harsh reflections on her state.
We're now preparing for the fields of Poićtiers:
Accommodate her on the wearying way
With thy best care. Remember I request it. [Exit.
Arn. Rely, my royal master, on my duty.
Needless injunction! Mariana's charms
Have giv'n her here such absolute command,
My very soul, my ev'ry pow'r, is her's.
But the cold maid, whene'er I plead my passion,
Chills me with sighs, and stifles all my flame
Of love with streaming tears. Benignant Heav'n!
Bless'd as I am with royal Edward's favour,
And Mariana's charms-and all beyond,
Let mad ambition grapple for, and gain.
Changes to the French Camp. Enter CHARNEY and the Archbishop of SENS.
Char. My lord of Sens, I gladly give your Grace
A joyful welcome to the plains of Poitiers.
You come the happy harbinger of comfort,
Returning to old Charney's woe-worn mind.
The king's approach revives my drooping spirits,
It feeds the dying lamp of life with hope
That I shall live to riot in revenge.
Those English locusts, who devour our wealth,
Who spoil and slaughter with so wild a fury,
Grant, ye good Pow'rs, these eyes may see destroy'd,
And I shall die contented!
Joins that petition. Your misfortunes, lord,
Most nearly touch the king.
Char. Oh, they are great!
The pride of ancient lineage treasur'd up,
Trophies of war and ornaments of pomp,
These won by valour, those with honour worn,
Favours of monarchs, and the gifts of Heav'n,
The relics of a glorious ancestry,
Are, with the mansion of my great forefathers,
A heap of ashes now!-A wide-spread ruin.
My age's blessing too, an only daughter,
Torn from her home to hard captivity,
The prey, the victim of a fell revenge!
Oh, matchless misery !– -Oh, Mariana!
Sens. Your sorrows have been wept by ev'ry eye; And all have wonder'd what should mark you out For such peculiar vengeance.
The service done our master, when I brib'd
Their governor to give up Calais to us;
Who, like a villain, broke his plighted faith,
And sacrific'd the gallant troops I led
To Edward's fury: slaughter'd all, or taken,
I was amongst the train who grac'd his triumph
There the proud king insulted me with taunts;
He call'd our undertaking vile and base;
With low'ring brow and bitterness of speech,
Adding, he hop'd the fortune of his arms
Would give him to reward my treachery.
The father's wishes hath the son accomplish'd;
For which, may all the rage of ev'ry curse,
Flames, famines, pestilences, slaughters, join
To root from nature the detested race!
Sens. Grant it, good Heav'n!—But see, the Duke of Athens.
Char. Lord Constable, most welcome to my arms. Ath. I thank you, noble Charney.
Char. Are the train
Of royal warriors, sir, arriv'd ?
Char. Oh, joyful tidings! Sir, another hour Shall speak at large my pleasure to behold you:
The present claims my duty to the king.
Ath. My lord of Sens, these secret marches made From different parts by our divided host, May steal us on our unprepared foes,
And give our arms, at length, an ample vengeance.
As I think, to-morrow,
Or I mistook the king, they'll all be here.
Ath. With early day, the instant we arriv'd, A numerous party, led by Ribemont,
Those the Dauphin brings,
Our last division, are to
We may expect them with to-morrow's dawn.
Sens. See! Ribemont is here.
Rib. Why, this looks well-
Here's bustle, expedition'-once again
We shine in arms, and wear a face of war.
Sens. Oh, may they never be again laid down,
Till England is repaid with all the plagues
Her sons have brought on France! My eager soul,
As does the fever'd lip for moisture, longs
To see destruction overwhelm that people.
Rib. Indulge no guilty hatred, rev'rend lord;
For fair report, and, let me add, experience,
Picture them lovely to impartial judgment.
The world allows they're valiant, gen'rous, wise,
Endow'd with all that dignifies our nature;
While, for their monarch-we'll appeal to facts,
And sure they speak him wonderful indeed!
"Did not Germania's ermin'd princes meet,
"And, as the most renown'd, the first of men,
"Elect great Edward to imperial sway?
"While he, sublime in ever-conscious glory,
66 Disdaining rule but on his native throne,
"Saw sovereigns offer vassalage in vain.
"Then to his court, from ev'ry peopled realm,
"Ev'n from our own did not the fam'd in arms,
"The harness'd knights repair to fill his lists
"To take his judgment in all martial strife?
"Submitting int'rest, honour, all was precious,
"And ev'n beyond appeal, owning his voice,
"Like that of Heav'n, incapable of error."
Sens. It grates my soul to hear a Frenchman talk
Of greater glories than he finds at home.
Is not this monarch you would make a god,
Our master's enemy, our country's foe ?
Rib. A foe he is, but he's a noble foe!
I know his worth, and therefore will I speak it.
At our attack of Calais, 'twas my fortune
To meet in fight this Third King Edward's sword:
I found him all that heathens held their gods,
Artful and mighty! (pardon the proud vaunt)
Too much for me to conquer. Long we stood,
Buckler to buckler, clashing steel to steel,
Till, by superior soldiership o'ercome,
I yielded to a monarch. But so well,
With hardy vigour, I sustain'd the combat,
That freedom, ransomless, was my reward.
The royal victor, when he bade me go,
Took from his brow this string of orient wealth,
Around my temples twin'd the glittering wreath,
And cry'd-Shine there, my token of applause.
Oh, if his valour wing'd amazement high,
Where was its flight, when his heroic soul,
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