EDWARD I., King of England, surnamed LONGSHANKS. EDMUND, Duke of Lancaster, his brother.
GILBERT DE CLARE, Earl of Glocester.
MORTIMER, Earl of March.
EARL OF SUSSEX.
JOHN BALIOL, elected King of Scotland.
VERSSES.
LLUELLEN, Prince of Wales.
SIR DAVID OF BRECKNOCK, his brother.
RICE AP MEREDITH.
OWEN AP RICE.
GUENTHER.
QUEEN-MOTHER.
QUEEN ELINOR.
JOAN OF ACON, her daughter.
LADY ELINOR,
Enter the QUEEN-MOTHER, GLOCESTER, SUSSEX, MORTIMER, SIR DAVID, and others.
Q. Mother. My Lord of Glocester, and Lord Mortimer, To do you honour in your sovereign's eyes,
That, as we hear, is newly come a-land
From Palestine, with all his men of war,
(The poor remainder of the royal fleet,
Preserved by miracle in Sicil road),
Go mount your coursers, meet him on the way :
Pray him to spur his steed: minutes are hours,
Until his mother see her princely son
Shining in glory of his safe return.
[Exeunt GLOCESTER and MORTIMER. Illustrious England, ancient seat of kings,
Whose chivalry hath royaliz'd thy fame :
What warlike nation, trained in feats of arms,
What barbarous people, stubborn or untamed,
What climate under the meridian signs,
Or frozen zone under his brumal stage,
Erst have not quaked and trembled at the name
Of Britain and her mighty conquerors ?
Her neighbour realms, as Scotland, Denmark, France,
Awed with her deeds, and jealous of her arms,
Have begged defensive and offensive leagues.
Thus Europe rich and mighty in her kings,
Hath feared brave England, dreadful in her kings.
2. Mother. And now to eternize Albion's champions, Equivalent with Trojan's ancient fame,
Comes lovely Edward from Jerusalem,
Veering before the wind, ploughing the sea;
His stretchéd sails filled with the breath of men
That through the world admire his manliness
And lo, at last arrived in Dover-road,
Edward, your king, your glory, and our son,
With troops of conquering lords and warlike knights,
Like bloody-crested Mars, o'erlooks his host,
Higher than all his army by the head,
Marching along as bright as Phoebus' eyes!
And we, his mother, shall behold our son,
And England's peers shall see their sovereign.
Enter GLOCESTer, Mortimer, King Edward, QUEEN
ELINOR, JOAN, LANCASTER, and Soldiers.
Edw. Help, ladies !—O ingrateful destiny,
To welcome Edward with this tragedy!
Glocester. Patient, your highness: 'tis but mother's love Revived with sight of her thrice-valiant sons. Madam, amaze not: see his majesty
Returned with glory from the holy land.
Q. Mother. Brave sons, the worthy champions of our God, The honourable soldiers of the Highest,
Bear with your mother, whose abundant love
With tears of joy salutes your sweet return
From famous journeys hard and fortunate.
But, lords, alas, how heavy is our loss
Since your departure to these Christian wars!
The king your father, and the prince your son,
And your brave uncle, Almain's emperor,
Edw. Take comfort, madam; leave these sad laments : Dear was my uncle, dearer was my son,
And ten times dearer was my noble father;
Yet, were their lives valu'd at thousand worlds,
They cannot scape th' arrest of dreadful death,
Death that doth seize and summon all alike.
Then, leaving them to heavenly blessedness,
To join in thrones of glory with the just,
I do salute your royal majesty,
My gracious mother-queen, and you, my lords,
Gilbert de Clare, Sussex, and Mortimer,
And all the princely states of England's peers,
With health and honour to your hearts' content.
And welcome, wishéd England, on whose ground
These feet so often have desir'd to tread :
Welcome, sweet queen, my fellow-traveller,
Welcome, sweet Nell, my fellow-mate in arms,
Whose eyes have seen the slaughter'd Saracens
Pil'd in the ditches of Jerusalem :
And lastly welcome, manly followers,
That bear the scars of honour and of arms,
And on your war-drums carry crowns as kings,
Crown mural, naval, and triumphant all;
At view of whom the Turks have trembling fled
Like sheep before the wolves, and Saracens
Have made their cottages in walléd towns;
But bulwarks had no fence to beat you back.
Lords, these are they will enter brazen gates,
And tear down lime and mortar with their nails :
Embrace them, barons: these have got the name
Of English gentlemen and knights-at-arms;
Not one of these but in the champaign field
Hath won his crown, his collar, and his spurs.
Not Cæsar, leading through the streets of Rome
The captive kings of conquer'd nations,
Was in his princely triumphs honour'd more
Than English Edward in this martial sight.
Countrymen,
Your limbs are lost in service of the Lord,
Which is your glory and your country's fame:
For limbs you shall have living, lordships, lands,
And be my counsellors in war's affairs.
Soldiers, sit down.-Nell, sit thee by my side.—
These be Prince Edward's pompous treasury.
Lancaster. O glorious Capitol! beauteous senate-house!
Triumphant Edward, how, like sturdy oaks,
Do these thy soldiers circle thee about,
To shield and shelter thee from winter's storms!
Display thy cross, old Aimes of the Vies:
Dub on your drums, tannéd with India's sun,
My lusty western lads : Matrevers, thou
Sound proudly here a perfect point of war
In honour of thy sovereign's safe return.
Edw. O God, my God, the brightness of my day,
How oft hast Thou preserv'd Thy servant safe,
By sea and land, yea, in the gates of death!
O God, to Thee how highly am I bound
For setting me with these on English ground!
One of my mansion-houses will I give
To be a college for my maiméd men,
Where every one shall have an hundred marks
Of yearly pension to his maintenance :
A soldier that for Christ and country fights
Shall want no living whilst King Edward lives.
Lords, you that love me, now be liberal,
And give your largess to these maiméd men.
Q. Mother. Towards this erection doth thy mother give, Out of her dower, five thousand pounds of gold,
To find them surgeons to recure their wounds;
And whilst this ancient standard-bearer lives,
He shall have forty pound of yearly fee,
And be my beadsman, father, if you please.
Edw. Madam, I tell you, England never bred
A better soldier than your beadsman is;
And that the Soldan and his army felt.
Lancaster. Out of the duchy of rich Lancaster,
To find soft bedding for their bruised bones,
Duke Edmund gives three thousand pounds of gold.
Edw. Happy is England under Edward's reign,
When men are had so highly in regard
That nobles strive who shall remunerate
The soldiers' resolution with reward.
Glocester. My gracious lord, as erst I was assigned
Lieutenant, here I render up the crown,
Left with me by your father King Henry;
Who on his death-bed still did call for you,
And dying willed to you the diadem.
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