ARKCODEX
Act I, Scene 2
1Roxborough. Before the castle.
2Enter Countess of Salisbury, and certain of her People, upon the walls.
3CountessAlas, how much in vain my poor eyes gaze
For succour that my sovereign should send!
Ah, cousin Mountague, I fear, thou want’st
The lively spirit sharply to solicit
With vehement suit the king in my behalf:
Thou dost not tell him, what a grief it is
To be the scornful captive of a Scot;
Either to be woo’d with broad untuned oaths,
Or forc’d by rough insulting barbarism:
Thou dost not tell him, if he here prevail,
How much they will deride us in the north;
And, in their wild, uncivil, skipping jigs,
Bray forth their conquest and our overthrow,
Even in the barren, bleak, and fruitless air.
4Enter King David and Forces; with Douglas, Lorraine, and others.
5I must withdraw; the everlasting foe
Comes to the wall: I’ll closely step aside,
And list their babble, blunt and full of pride. Retiring behind the works.
6King DavidMy Lord of Lorraine, to our brother of France
Commend us, as the man in Christendom
That we most reverence and entirely love.
Touching your embassage, return and say
That we with England will not enter parley
Nor never make fair weather or take truce,
But burn their neighbour towns, and so persist
With eager roads beyond their city York.
And never shall our bonny riders rest,
Nor rusting canker have the time to eat
Their light-borne snaffles nor their nimble spurs;
Nor lay aside their jacks of gymold mail;
Nor hang their staves of grained Scottish ash
In peaceful wise upon their city walls;
Nor from their button’d tawny leathern belts
Dismiss their biting whinyards, till your king
Cry out, Enough; spare England now for pity.
Farewell, and tell him, that you leave us here
Before this castle; say, you came from us
Even when we had that yielded to our hands.
7LorraineI take my leave, and fairly will return
Your acceptable greeting to my king. Exit.
8King DavidNow, Douglas, to our former task again,
For the division of this certain spoil.
9DouglasMy liege, I crave the lady, and no more.
10King DavidNay, soft ye, sir, first I must make my choice;
And first I do bespeak her for myself.
11DouglasWhy, then, my liege, let me enjoy her jewels.
12King DavidThose are her own, still liable to her,
And, who inherits her, hath those withal.
13Enter a Messenger, hastily.
14MessengerMy liege, as we were pricking on the hills,
To fetch in booty, marching hitherward
We might descry a might host of men;
The sun, reflecting on the armour, show’d
A field of plate, a wood of pikes advanc’d;
Bethink your highness speedily herein.
An easy march within four hours will bring
The hindmost rank unto this place, my liege.
15King DavidDislodge, dislodge, it is the King of England.
16DouglasJemmy my man, saddle my bonny black.
17King DavidMean’st thou to fight? Douglas, we are too weak.
18DouglasI know it well, my liege, and therefore fly.
19CountessMy lords of Scotland, will ye stay and drink? Rising from her concealment.
20King DavidShe mocks at us; Douglas, I can’t endure it.
21CountessSay, good my lord, which is he, must have the lady,
And which, her jewels? I am sure, my lords,
Ye will not hence, till you have shar’d the spoils.
22King DavidShe heard the messenger and heard our talk;
And now that comfort makes her scorn at us.
23Enter another Messenger.
24MessengerArm, my good lord! O, we are all surpris’d!
25CountessAfter the French ambassador, my liege,
And tell him that you dare not ride to York;
Excuse it, that your bonny horse is lame.
26King DavidShe heard that too; intolerable grief!—
Woman, farewell: although I do not stay—Exeunt Scots.
27Countess’Tis not for fear—and yet you run away.—
O happy comfort, welcome to our house!
The confident and boist’rous boasting Scot—
That swore before my walls, they would not back
For all the armed power of this land—
With faceless fear that ever turns his back,
Turn’d hence again the blasting north-east wind
Upon the bare report and name of arms.
28Enter Mountague, and others.
29O summer’s day! see where my cousin comes.
30MountagueHow fares my aunt? Why, aunt,1 we are not Scots;
Why do you shut your gates against your friends?
31CountessWell may I give a welcome, cousin, to thee,
For thou com’st well to chase my foes from hence.
32MountagueThe king himself is come in person hither;
Dear aunt, descend, and gratulate his highness.
33CountessHow may I entertain his majesty,
To show my duty and his dignity? Exit, from above.
34Enter King Edward, Warwick, Artois, with others.
35King EdwardWhat, are the stealing foxes fled and gone
Before we could uncouple at their heels?
36WarwickThey are, my liege; but, with a cheerful cry,
Hot hounds and hardy chase them at the heels.
37Enter Countess.
38King EdwardThis is the countess, Warwick, is it not?
39WarwickEven she, my liege; whose beauty tyrant’s fear,
As a May blossom with pernicious winds,
Hath sullied, wither’d, overcast, and done.
40King EdwardHath she been fairer, Warwick, than she is?
41WarwickMy gracious king, fair is she not at all,
If that herself were by to stain herself,
As I have seen her when she was herself.
42King EdwardWhat strange enchantment lurk’d in those her eyes
When they excell’d this excellence they have,
That now their dim decline hath power to draw
My subject eyes from persing majesty
To gaze on her with doting admiration?
43CountessIn duty lower than the ground I kneel
And for my dull knees bow my feeling heart,
To witness my obedience to your highness;
With many millions of a subject’s thanks
For this your royal presence, whose approach
Hath driven war and danger from my gate.
44King EdwardLady, stand up: I come to bring thee peace,
However thereby I have purchas’d war.
45CountessNo war to you, my liege; the Scots are gone,
And gallop home toward Scotland with their hate.
46King EdwardLest yielding here I pine in shameful love,
Come, we’ll pursue the Scots;—Artois, away!
47CountessA little while, my gracious sovereign, stay
And let the power of a mighty king
Honour our roof; my husband in the wars,
When he shall hear it, will triumph for joy:
Then, dear my liege, now niggard not thy state;
Being at the wall, enter our homely gate.
48King EdwardPardon me, countess, I will come no near;
I dream’d to-night of treason, and I fear.
49CountessFar from this place let ugly treason lie!
50King EdwardNo farther off than her conspiring eye,
Which shoots infected poison in my heart
Beyond repulse of wit or cure of art.
Now in the sun alone it doth not lie
With light to take light from a mortal eye;
For here two day-stars, that mine eyes would see,
More than the sun, steals mine own light from me.
Contemplative desire! desire to be
In contemplation, that may master thee!
Warwick, Artois, to horse, and let’s away!
51CountessWhat might I speak, to make my sovereign stay?
52King EdwardWhat needs a tongue to such a speaking eye
That more persuades than winning oratory?
53CountessLet not thy presence, like the April sun,
Flatter our earth and suddenly be done.
More happy do not make our outward wall
Than thou wilt grace our inner house withal.
Our house, my liege, is like a country swain,
Whose habit rude and manners blunt and plain
Presageth nought, yet inly beautified
With bounty’s riches and faire hidden pride:
For, where the golden ore doth buried lie,
The ground, undeck’d with nature’s tapestry,
Seems barren, sere, unfertile, fructless, dry;
And where the upper turf of earth doth boast
His pride, perfumes and parti-colour’d cost,
Delve there, and find this issue and their pride
To spring from ordure and corruption’s side.
But, to make up my all too long compare,
These ragged walls no testimony are,
What is within; but, like a cloak, doth hide,
From weather’s waste, the under-garnish’d pride.
More gracious then my terms can let thee be,
Intreat thyself to stay a while with me.
54King EdwardAs wise as fair; what fond fit can be heard
When wisdom keeps the gate as beauty’s guard?—
Countess, albeit my business urgeth me,
It shall attend while I attend on thee.—
Come on, my lords, here will I host to-night. Exeunt.