AUDLEY.
No matter, if it be; the count is cast,
And, in the worst, ends but a mortal man.
Good friends, convey me to the princely Edward,
That in the crimson bravery of my blood
I may become him with saluting him.
I’ll smile, and tell him, that this open scar
Doth end the harvest of his Audley’s war.
[Exeunt.]
ACT IV. SCENE IX. The same. The English Camp.
[Enter prince Edward, King John, Charles, and all, with Ensigns spread.]
PRINCE EDWARD.
Now, John in France, & lately John of France,
Thy bloody Ensigns are my captive colours;
And you, high vaunting Charles of Normandy,
That once to day sent me a horse to fly,
Are now the subjects of my clemency.
Fie, Lords, is it not a shame that English boys,
Whose early days are yet not worth a beard,
Should in the bosom of your kingdom thus,
One against twenty, beat you up together?
KING JOHN.
Thy fortune, not thy force, hath conquered us.
PRINCE EDWARD.
An argument that heaven aides the right.
[Enter Artois with Phillip.]
See, see, Artois doth bring with him along
The late good counsel giver to my soul.
Welcome, Artois; and welcome, Phillip, too:
Who now of you or I have need to pray?
Now is the proverb verified in you,
‘Too bright a morning breeds a louring day.’
[Sound Trumpets. Enter Audley.]