SCENE IV.
Calais.
A Gate, leading out of the Town.
Enter Citizens.
1 Cit. Stand back; they are coming.
3 Cit. Nay, my masters, they will not forth, this quarter of an hour. Men seldom move lightly on such a heavy occasion.
4 Cit. Who are the two others that have filled up the number?
3 Cit. Marry, two more of old Eustache's family. His own son; and the other, as 'tis rumoured, a relation, in the town, that few of us are acquainted withal.
4 Cit. That's strange.
3 Cit. Why, ay; but when a man chuses a rope for his preferment, few are found envious enough to dispute the title with him.—By the rood! here they come!
Enter Eustache de St. Pierre, Ribaumont, La Gloire, John d'Aire, J. Wissant, P. Wissant, going to execution: a Procession of Soldiers, Friars, Nuns, &c. accompanying them.—A solemn March; then, a Halt.
Ribau. I pr'ythee, peace, Eustache! I fain would 'scape
Observance from the rabble. Hurry o'er
This irksome march; and straightway to the camp.
Eust. Enough—Set forth! We are engaged, my friends,
Upon a business here, which most, I wot,
Do think of moment; and we would not waste
The time in idle ceremony. On!—
Ere we are usher'd to the English camp,
And most of you, I trust, will follow thither,—
We will bestow the little time allow'd us
In manly leave-taking. Strike, and set onward!
Citizens. Bless our countrymen! Bless our deliverers!
GLEE.—By the Persons of the Procession.
Peace to the heroes! peace! who yield their blood,
And perish, nobly, for their country's good!
Peace to their noble souls! their bodies die;
Their fame shall flourish long in memory;
Recorded still, in future years,
Green in a nation's gratitude, and tears.
CHORUS.
Sound! sound in solemn strains, and slow!
Dully beat the muffled drum!
Bid the hollow trumpet blow,
In deaden'd tones, clear, firm, and low;—
For, see! the patriot heros come!
[Towards the End of the Chorus, the Characters proceed on their March out of the Town; and when the last Persons of the Procession are going through the Gates, the Curtain drops.