Henry V
·II iv 84 ·
Verse
Exeter Duke of Exeter. From him; and thus he greets your majesty. He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, That you divest yourself, and lay apart The borrow'd glories that by gift of heaven, By law of nature and of nations, 'long To him and to his heirs; namely, the crown And all wide-stretched honours that pertain By custom and the ordinance of times Unto the crown of France. That you may know 'Tis no sinister nor no awkward claim, Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days, Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked, He sends you this most memorable line, In every branch truly demonstrative; Willing to overlook this pedigree: And when you find him evenly derived From his most famed of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held From him the native and true challenger. Duke of Exeter. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it: Therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, In thunder and in earthquake, like a Jove, That, if requiring fail, he will compel; And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, Deliver up the crown, and to take mercy On the poor souls for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws; and on your head Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries The dead men's blood, the pining maidens groans, For husbands, fathers and betrothed lovers, That shall be swallow'd in this controversy. This is his claim, his threatening and my message; Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring greeting too. To-morrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother England. Lewis the Dauphin. For the Dauphin, I stand here for him: what to him from England? Duke of Exeter. Scorn and defiance; slight regard, contempt, And any thing that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king; an' if your father's highness Do not, in grant of all demands at large, Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, He'll call you to so hot an answer of it, That caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass and return your mock In second accent of his ordnance. It is against my will; for I desire Nothing but odds with England: to that end, As matching to his youth and vanity, I did present him with the Paris balls. Duke of Exeter. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress-court of mighty Europe: And, be assured, you'll find a difference, As we his subjects have in wonder found, Between the promise of his greener days And these he masters now: now he weighs time Even to the utmost grain: that you shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France. |