_Should the captain of her dear_ _Use his vain endeavour,_ _Whisp'ring nonsense in her ear,_ _Two fond hearts to sever,_ _At his passion she will scoff;_ _Laughing, thus, she'll put him off,--_ _Lira, lira, lira, lira, lira la,_ _For her jolly soldier._ [Exit. SCENE II. _The Town Hall of Calais._ _CITIZENS, SOLDIERS, and CRIER, discovered._ _Crier._ Silence!--An ye all talk thus, there's an end to conversation. Your silence, my masters, will breed a disturbance. Mass, 'tis hard that I, who am Crier, should be laughed at, and held at nought among you. _All._ Hear! hear! _Crier._ Listen.--The good John de Vienne, our governor--a blessing on his old merry heart!--grieving for your distress, has, e'en now, called a parley on the walls, with the English; and has chosen me, in his wisdom, to ring you all into the town hall, here; where, an you abide his coming, you will hear, what he shall seem to signify unto you. And, by our lady, here the governor comes!--[_Rings._]--Silence! _All._ Silence! _Crier._ Nay, 'tis ever so. An I were to bid a dumb man hold his tongue, by my troth, I think a' would cry "Silence," till the drum of my ear were bursten. Silence! _Enter JOHN de VIENNE, EUSTACHE de ST. PIERRE following. JOHN de VIENNE seats himself at the Head of the Council Table; EUSTACHE sits in the Front, among the CITIZENS._ _De Vienne._ You partly know why I have here convened you. I pr'ythee, now,--I pr'ythee, honest friends! Summon up all the fortitude within you, Which you are masters of. Now, Heaven forgive me! I almost wish I had not been a soldier;-- For I have, here, a matter to deliver Requires a schoolman's preface. 'Tis a task, Which bears so heavy on my poor old heart, That 'twill go nigh to crack beneath the burden. You know I love you, fellow citizens: You know I love you well. _All._ Ay, ay; we know it. _De Vienne._ I could be well content, in peace, or peril, To 'bide with you for ever. _Eust._ No one doubts it. I never, yet, did hear of governor, Spite of the rubs, and watchful toil of office, Would willingly forego his place. _De Vienne._ Why, how now! Why, how now, friend! dost thou come o'er me thus? But I shall find a time--it fits not now-- When I will teach thee----'Sdeath! old John de Vienne, A veteran, bluff soldier, bearded thus! And sneer'd at by a saucy--Mark you me!-- [_Rises._ Well, let it pass:--the general calamity Will sour the best of us.--[_Sits._]--My honest citizens, I once more pray you, think that ye are men: I pray you, too, my friends----