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At Paris. Noble Harcourt, thanks, for 'twas
By your advice we landed here in Brittany,
A country not as yet sown with destruction,
And where the fiery whirlwind of swift war
Hath not yet swept its desolating wing.
Into three parties we divide by day,
And separate march, but join again at night:
Each knows his rank, and Heaven marshals all. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.— At Cressy. The King and Sir Thomas Dagworth. The Prince of Wales and Sir John Chandos.
King. What can Sir Thomas Dagworth
Request that Edward can refuse?
Dagw. I hope
Your majesty cannot refuse so mere
A trifle: I've gilt your cause with my best blood,
And would again, were I not now forbid
By him whom I am bound to obey. My hands
Are tied up, all my courage shrunk and wither'd,
My sinews slacken'd, and my voice scarce heard:
Therefore I beg I may return to England.
King. I know not what you could have ask'd, Sir Thomas,
That I would not have sooner parted with
Than such a soldier as you, and such a friend;
Nay, I will know the most remote particulars
Of this your strange petition, that if I can
I still may keep you here.
Dagw. Here on the fields of Cressy we are settled,
'Till Philip spring the timorous covey again.
The wolf is hunted down by causeless fear;
The lion flees, and fear usurps his heart,
Startled, astonish'd at the clamorous cock.
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