English drama -- Early modern and Elizabethan, 1500-1600; Greene, Robert, 1558-1592
_Jaq. Est ce donc à tel point votre etat?_ faith, then adieu, Scotland,
adieu, Signior Ateukin: me will homa to France, and no be hanged in a
strange country. [_Exit._
_Ateu._ Thou dost me good to leave me thus alone,
That galling grief and I may yoke in one.
O, what are subtle means to climb on high,
When every fall swarms with exceeding shame?
I promis'd Ida's love unto the prince,
But she is lost, and I am false forsworn.
I practis'd Dorothea's hapless death,
And by this practice have commenc'd a war.
O cursèd race of men, that traffic guile,
And, in the end, themselves and kings beguile!
Asham'd to look upon my prince again,
Asham'd of my suggestions and advice,
Asham'd of life, asham'd that I have err'd,
I'll hide myself, expecting for[290] my shame.
Thus God doth work with those that purchase fame
By flattery, and make their prince their game. [_Exit._
SCENE III.--_The English Camp before Dunbar._
_Enter the_ KING OF ENGLAND, LORD PERCY, SAMLES, _and others._
_K. of Eng._[291] Thus far, ye English peers, have we display'd
Our waving ensigns with a happy war;
Thus nearly hath our furious rage reveng'd
My daughter's death upon the traitorous Scot.
And now before Dunbar our camp is pitch'd;
Which, if it yield not to our compromise,
The plough shall furrow where the palace stood,
And fury shall enjoy so high a power
That mercy shall be banish'd from our swords.
_Enter_ DOUGLAS _and others on the walls._
_Doug._ What seeks the English king?
_K. of Eng._ Scot, open those gates, and let me enter in:
Submit thyself and thine unto my grace,
Or I will put each mother's son to death,
And lay this city level with the ground.
_Doug._ For what offence, for what default of ours,
Art thou incens'd so sore against our state?
Can generous hearts in nature be so stern
To prey on those that never did offend?
What though the lion, king of brutish race,
Through outrage sin, shall lambs be therefore slain?
Or is it lawful that the humble die
Because the mighty do gainsay the right?
O English king, thou bearest in thy crest
The king of beasts, that harms not yielding ones:
The roseal cross is spread within thy field,
A sign of peace, not of revenging war.
Be gracious, then, unto this little town;
And, though we have withstood thee for awhile
To show allegiance to our liefest liege,
Yet, since we know no hope of any help,
Take us to mercy, for we yield ourselves.
_K. of Eng._ What, shall I enter, then, and be your lord?
_Doug._ We will submit us to the English king.
[_They descend, open the gates, and humble themselves_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account