FOUR. Fly, country men and citizens of France! Sweet flowering peace, the root of happy life, Is quite abandoned and expulst the land; In stead of whom ransacked constraining war Sits like to Ravens upon your houses’ tops; Slaughter and mischief walk within your streets, And, unrestrained, make havoc as they pass; The form whereof even now my self beheld Upon this fair mountain whence I came. For so far of as I directed mine eyes, I might perceive five Cities all on fire, Corn fields and vineyards, burning like an oven; And, as the reaking vapour in the wind Turned but aside, I like wise might discern The poor inhabitants, escaped the flame, Fall numberless upon the soldiers’ pikes. Three ways these dreadful ministers of wrath Do tread the measures of their tragic march: Upon the right hand comes the conquering King, Upon the left his hot unbridled son, And in the midst our nation’s glittering host, All which, though distant yet, conspire in one, To leave a desolation where they come. Fly therefore, Citizens, if you be wise, Seek out some habitation further off: Here is you stay, your wives will be abused, Your treasure shared before your weeping eyes; Shelter you your selves, for now the storm doth rise. Away, away; me thinks I hear their drums:— Ah, wretched France, I greatly fear thy fall; Thy glory shaketh like a tottering wall. [Exeunt.] ACT III. SCENE III. The same. Drums. [Enter King Edward, and the Earl of Darby, With Soldiers, and Gobin de Grey.] KING EDWARD. Where’s the French man by whose cunning guide We found the shallow of this River Somme, And had directions how to pass the sea? GOBIN. Here, my good Lord. KING EDWARD. How art thou called? tell me thy name. GOBIN. Gobin de Graie, if please your excellence. KING EDWARD. Then, Gobin, for the service thou hast done, We here enlarge and give thee liberty; And, for recompense beside this good, Thou shalt receive five hundred marks in gold.— I know not how, we should have met our son, Whom now in heart I wish I might behold. [Enter Artois.] ARTOIS. Good news, my Lord; the prince is hard at hand, And with him comes Lord Awdley and the rest, Whom since our landing we could never meet. [Enter Prince Edward, Lord Awdley, and Soldiers.] KING EDWARD. Welcome, fair Prince! How hast thou sped, my son, Since thy arrival on the coast of France? PRINCE EDWARD. Successfully, I thank the gracious heavens: Some of their strongest Cities we have won, As Harflew, Lo, Crotay, and Carentigne, And others wasted, leaving at our heels A wide apparent field and beaten path For solitariness to progress in: Yet those that would submit we kindly pardoned, But who in scorn refused our proffered peace, Endured the penalty of sharp revenge.