Sire, with respect and deference I look
Upon such noble souls, and wish myself
Worthy the high command that Heaven and you
Have given me.
When I have seen the field glow,
And in each countenance the soul of war
Curbed by the manliest reason, I have been winged
With certain victory; and 'tis my boast,
And shall be still my glory, I was inspired
By these brave troops.
Your Grace had better make them
Sir Thomas Dagworth, you must have your joke, And shall, while you can fight as you did at
I have a small petition to your Majesty.
What can Sir Thomas Dagworth ask
That Edward can refuse?
I hope your Majesty cannot refuse so great
A trifle; I've gilt your cause with my best blood,
And would again, were I not forbid
By him whom I am bound to obey: my hands
Are tied up, my courage shrunk and withered,
My sinews slackened, and my voice scarce heard ;
Therefore I beg I may return to England.
I know not what you could have asked, Sir Thomas,
That I would not have sooner parted with
Than such a soldier as you have been, and such a friend :
Nay, I will know the most remote particulars
Of this your strange petition; that, if I can
I still may keep you here.
Here on the fields of Cressy we are settled
Till Philip springs the timorous covey again.
The wolf is hunted down by causeless fear ;
The lion flees, and fear usurps his heart,
Startled, astonished at the clamorous cock;
The eagle, that doth gaze upon the sun,
Fears the small fire that plays about the fen.
If at this moment of their idle fear
The dog doth seize the wolf, the forester the lion,
The negro in the crevice of the rock
Doth seize the soaring eagle; undone by flight,
They tame submit: such the effect flight has
On noble souls. Now hear its opposite :
The timorous stag starts from the thicket wild,
The fearful crane springs from the splashy fen,
The shining snake glides o'er the bending grass,
The stag turns head, and bays the crying hounds;
The crane o'ertaken fighteth with the hawk;
The snake doth turn, and bite the padding foot.
And if your Majesty's afraid of Philip,
You are more like a lion than a crane:
Therefore I beg I may return to England.
Sir Thomas, now I understand your mirth,
Which often plays with wisdom for its pastime,
And brings good counsel from the breast of
laughter.
I hope you'll stay and see us fight this battle,
And reap rich harvest in the fields of Cressy;
Then go to England, tell them how we fight,
And set all hearts on fire to be with us.
Philip is plumed, and thinks we flee from him,
Else he would never dare to attack us. Now,
Now the quarry's set! and death doth sport
In the bright sunshine of this fatal day.
Now my heart dances, and I am as light
As the young bridegroom going to be married.
Now must I to my soldiers, get them ready,
Furbish our armours bright, new-plume our helms ;
And we will sing like the young housewives busied
In the dairy. My feet are wing'd, but not
For flight, an please your grace.
If all my soldiers are as pleased as you, 'Twill be a gallant thing to fight or die; Then I can never be afraid of Philip.
A raw-boned fellow t'other day passed by me ;
I told him to put off his hungry looks-
He answered me, “I hunger for another battle."
I saw a little Welshman with a fiery face;
I told him he looked like a candle half
Burned out; he answered, he was "pig enough
To light another pattle." Last night, beneath
The moon I walked abroad, when all had pitched
Their tents, and all were still ;
I heard a blooming youth singing a song
He had composed, and at each pause he wiped
His dropping eyes. The ditty was, "If he
Returned victorious, he should wed a maiden
Fairer than snow, and rich as midsummer."
Another wept, and wished health to his father.
I chid them both, but gave them noble hopes.
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