Now, if I knew but safely how to pass, I would at Calice gladly meet his Grace, Whether I am by letters certified That he intends to have his host removed. It shall be so, this policy will serve:— Ho, whose within? Bring Villiers to me. [Enter Villiers.] Villiers, thou knowest, thou art my prisoner, And that I might for ransom, if I would, Require of thee a hundred thousand Francs, Or else retain and keep thee captive still: But so it is, that for a smaller charge Thou maist be quit, and if thou wilt thy self. And this it is: Procure me but a passport Of Charles, the Duke of Normandy, that I Without restraint may have recourse to Callis Through all the Countries where he hath to do; Which thou maist easily obtain, I think, By reason I have often heard thee say, He and thou were students once together: And then thou shalt be set at liberty. How saiest thou? wilt thou undertake to do it? VILLIERS. I will, my Lord; but I must speak with him. SALISBURY. Why, so thou shalt; take Horse, and post from hence: Only before thou goest, swear by thy faith, That, if thou canst not compass my desire, Thou wilt return my prisoner back again; And that shall be sufficient warrant for me. VILLIERS. To that condition I agree, my Lord, And will unfainedly perform the same. [Exit.] SALISBURY. Farewell, Villiers.— Thus once i mean to try a French man’s faith. [Exit.] ACT IV. SCENE II. Picardy. The English Camp before Calais. [Enter King Edward and Derby, with Soldiers.] KING EDWARD. Since they refuse our proffered league, my Lord, And will not ope their gates, and let us in, We will intrench our selves on every side, That neither vituals nor supply of men May come to succour this accursed town: Famine shall combat where our swords are stopped. [Enter six poor Frenchmen.] DERBY. The promised aid, that made them stand aloof, Is now retired and gone an other way: It will repent them of their stubborn will. But what are these poor ragged slaves, my Lord? KING EDWARD. Ask what they are; it seems, they come from Callis. DERBY. You wretched patterns of despair and woe, What are you, living men or gliding ghosts, Crept from your graves to walk upon the earth? POOR. No ghosts, my Lord, but men that breath a life Far worse than is the quiet sleep of death: We are distressed poor inhabitants, That long have been diseased, sick, and lame; And now, because we are not fit to serve, The Captain of the town hath thrust us forth, That so expense of victuals may be saved. KING EDWARD. A charitable deed, no doubt, and worthy praise! But how do you imagine then to speed? We are your enemies; in such a case We can no less but put ye to the sword, Since, when we proffered truce, it was refused. POOR. And if your grace no otherwise vouchsafe, As welcome death is unto us as life. KING EDWARD. Poor silly men, much wronged and more distressed! Go, Derby, go, and see they be relieved; Command that victuals be appointed them, And give to every one five Crowns a piece.