_The King’s Pavilion in the English Camp._
KING EDWARD (_solus_.)
The Persian wept, when he beheld his hosts
Array’d in all the pomp and strength of war;
He wept to think, that in one hundred years
The soul of life that stirr’d a million men
Should be extinct, and all their warrior forms
Resolved to dust. I weep for other cause!
I weep to see so many chosen men
Wasting their prime in an inglorious ease,
While they might combat on the fields of France,
And dictate laws to nations.
_Enter_ LORDS ARUNDEL, MONTAGUE, D’ARCY, PERCY, _and other Nobles,
with_ JOHN OF HAINAULT, _and_ SIR RICHARD BENHALE.
MONTAGUE.
Gracious king!
Keith has rejoin’d the Scots, with many knights,
Prendergest, Ramsay, Gray—th’ assault has fail’d,
As we knew nought of this superior force.
Inflated now, like frogs who sought a king,
With new-come succours, they refuse surrender;
Treating your summons with insulting scorn;
And say, in terms of truce they stand relieved,
And that their hostages should be given up.
KING EDWARD.
Hah! there I have them, tantalizing rogues!
St George! my nobles, hear ye this, and pause?
ARUNDEL.
Even as the sleugh-hound burns to dip its tongue
In blood of game, we burn to meet the Scots
In deadly conflict.
_Enter_ ROKESBY.
ROKESBY.
My liege, the Douglas, with a powerful host,
Comes to the aid of Berwick, and has cross’d
The Tweed beneath the skirts of Halidon.
KING EDWARD.
My gallant Rokesby, ye shall be rewarded
At our royal leisure. Nobles, hear ye this?
Montague, D’Arcy, to the field prepare,—
[_Exeunt_ MONTAGUE _and_ D’ARCY.
Percy and John of Hainault, marshal quick
Your numerous troops,—and let the traitors feel
The strength of English spear and English bow.
[_Exeunt_ PERCY _and_ HAINAULT.
Scots, if ye cheat me now, like Vortigern
I’ll tear the plaited mail from off my shoulders,
And rush upon destruction!
_Enter_ LIEUTENANT.
LIEUTENANT.
My liege, already from the Scottish camp
Defiance has been given. A giant Scot,
Who turn’d aside the bull from Robert Bruce,
Challenges England’s stoutest knight to combat.
KING EDWARD.
Hah! St George! I feel the elixir
Of life shoot through my veins, to think that I
For once shall meet these rascals in the field:
Speak any?
BENHALE.
I am young, and but the least
Of English knights, yet I accept the challenge,
And in the front of both the armed hosts
Will slay or turn the bull!
[_All exclaim_ “Bravo!”]
[_Exit_ BENHALE.
KING EDWARD.
Nobles, unto the camp. [_Exeunt._
[_Flourish of Trumpets, &c._