COUNTESS.
No war to you, my liege; the Scots are gone,
And gallop home toward Scotland with their hate.
KING EDWARD.
Least, yielding here, I pine in shameful love,
Come, we’ll pursue the Scots;—Artois, away!
COUNTESS.
A little while, my gracious sovereign, stay,
And let the power of a mighty king
Honor 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.
KING EDWARD.
Pardon me, countess, I will come no near;
I dreamed to night of treason, and I fear.
COUNTESS.
Far from this place let ugly treason lie!
KING EDWARD.
No 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!
COUNTESS.
What might I speak to make my sovereign stay?
KING EDWARD.
What needs a tongue to such a speaking eye,
That more persuades than winning Oratory?
COUNTESS.
Let 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 bounties, riches and faire hidden pride.
For where the golden Ore doth buried lie,
The ground, undecked with nature’s tapestry,
Seems barren, sere, unfertile, fructless, dry;
And where the upper turf of earth doth boast
His pied perfumes and party coloured coat,
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 garnished pride.
More gracious then my terms can let thee be,
Intreat thy self to stay a while with me.
KING EDWARD.
As wise, as fair; what fond fit can be heard,
When wisdom keeps the gate as beauty’s guard?—
It shall attend, while I attend on thee:
Come on, my Lords; here will I host to night.