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Lee,  Amice  (Macdonell) 
Magna  carta 


Historical  Plays  for  Children.    No.  6 


MAGNA   CARTA 

AND 

EDWARD    III 

By  AMICE  MACDONELL 


onto :  The  Musson  Book  Company,  Ltd. 


Price  25  cents. 


MAGNA     CARTA 

AND 

EDWARD    III 


TtRU5KlR-<Tt,-?i-OU^£'\^i- 


Historical  Plays  for  Children.     No.   6 

MAGNA    CARTA 

AND 

EDWARD    III 

(One-Act  Plays  in  One  Book) 


BY 

AMICE   MACDONELL 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  THE   AUTHOR 


TORONTO 
THE   MUSSON   BOOK   COMPANY,  LTD. 

LONDON:   GEORGE   ALLEN   &   SONS 


PS 

2TO 

Published  under  the  Patronage  of  the 
League  of  the  Empire 


JAN  29  1969 
^S/ry  or  to«^» 


[All  rights  reserved] 


STAGE    DIRECTIONS 


MAGNA    CARTA    AND    EDWARD    III 

These  plays  can  be  acted  either  in  or  out  of  doors.  In  the 
latter  case,  when  an  indoor  scene  is  represented,  a  screen  can 
be  used  as  a  background. 

If  the  play  is  given  in  the  house,  curtains  of  some  plain 
colour — brown  holland  or  dark  green,  for  instance — would 
make  a  good  background.  Two  large  bushes  of  greenery  can 
be  placed  on  either  side  of  the  stage.  If  nothing  large  enough 
can  be  had  in  a  pot,  wooden  chairs  can  be  completely  covered 
with  boughs  and  ivy ;  these  can  be  pulled  aside  for  indoor 
scenes. 

Localities  can  be  always  indicated  by  placards,  as  "  Runny- 
mede,"  "  Windmill  hill  by  Crecy,"  &c. 

Two  of  the  actors,  in  their  acting  clothes,  can  come  on  to 
the  stage  between  the  scenes  to  arrange  chairs,  &c. 

One  entrance  and  exit,  right  or  left,  is  needed. 

In  no  case  are  scenery  or  proscenium  curtain  necessary. 
But  if  scenery  as  a  background  is  desired,  the  following  sug- 
gestions are  made.  The  scenery  can  be  painted  on  unbleached 
calico.  The  surface  can  either  be  covered  with  whitening 
mixed  with  size,  or  the  calico  can  be  tinted  with  Dolly  Dye  to 
get  the  general  tone  of  the  background,  the  dye  being  painted 
on  with  a  large  brush. 

For  instance,  in  painting  a  wood,  the  upper  part  of  the 
scenery  could  be  tinted  with  blue-grey  as  a  ground  on  which 
to  paint  distant  trees,  and  the  lower  part  with  brown  and 
green  dyes  for  the  foundation  of  the  foreground.  The  paint- 
ing is  done  with  powder  paints  (to  be  had  at  any  oil-shop) 
mixed  with  size. 

Trunks  of  trees  can  be  cut  out  of  brown  paper  of  different 
shades,  on  which  the  shadows  and  lines  are  painted  in  darker 
brown  or  black  paint,  and  pasted  on  to  give  a  near  effect. 


6  DRESSES 

Pieces  of  real  furze  or  bracken  could  be  fastened  right  in  the 
foreground  to  throw  back  the  rest  of  the  scene.  When  the 
scene  is  to  be  very  dark — for  the  interior  of  a  stone  or  panelled 
room,  for  instance — the  whole  background  calico  could  be 
dyed  grey  or  brown  before  painting. 

Sometimes  pieces  of  wall-paper  can  be  found  to  represent 
tapestry ;  or,  to  give  this  effect,  the  calico  can  be  painted  with 
Dolly  Dyes,  the  patterns  being  first  drawn  in  and  outlined  with 
fine  silver  sand  to  prevent  the  colours  from  running.  All 
drawing  is  done  with  charcoal.  Old  houses  and  gable  ends, 
suitable  for  mediaeval  backgrounds,  can  often  be  got  from 
picture  postcards.  Simple  background  scenery  looks  well, 
framed  between  two  dark  green  curtains. 

With  regard  to  the  effect  of  dress  colours,  the  proportions 
should  be  kept  even ;  full,  simple  colours  chosen,  and  never 
"  art  shades."  Dolly  Dyes  and  Maypole  Soaps  give  a  good 
range  of  colours,  and  with  a  simple  background,  scarlet,  deep 
blue,  orange,  black,  green,  &c,  could  be  used,  suggestive  of 
the  colours  of  a  mediaeval  illumination. 

For  dress  materials,  sateen  at  4fd.  and  6jd.  can  be  had 
in  good  colours,  but  the  cheapest  woollen  or  house  flannel 
make  better  folds  and  give  the  massive  effect  of  the  garments 
of  olden  times.  "Horticultural  Sheeting"  about  50  inches 
wide,  is.  a  yard  (Messrs.  Cookson,  Wellington  Mills,  Man- 
chester), is  useful,  and  can  be  dyed  effectively  with  Maypole 
Soap. 

Tunics  and  dresses  should  be  made  with  no  seam  on  the 
shoulder.  A  piece  of  stuff,  double  the  length  of  the  garment 
required,  is  folded  in  half,  selvedge  to  selvedge ;  the  neck- 
opening  is  cut  out  of  the  centre  of  the  top  of  the  fold.  The 
folded  stuff  on  either  side  of  the  neck-opening  forms  the 
shoulder  and  sleeve.  The  sides  of  the  garment  are  shaped 
in  to  the  figure.  Width  should  be  added  at  the  bottom,  and, 
unless  the  stuff  is  very  wide,  to  the  length  of  the  sleeves. 

If  adapted,  Butterick's  children's  patterns  can  be  used  as 
a  foundation  and  guide  for  size  and  proportions. 

For  boys,  the  measurements  generally  required  are :  Chest, 


DRESSES  7 

waist,  neck  to  knee,  arm,  head.  For  girls  :  Bust,  waist,  neck 
to  ground,  arm,  head.  Chain  mail  can  be  made  of  motor 
cleaning  material,  "  Kleenquick,"  at  Whiteley's,  25  yards 
for  4s.  6d.  It  should  be  boiled  in  size,  black-leaded  and 
silvered.  It  will  pull  to  any  shape.  Suits  of  chain  mail 
can  also  be  very  effectively  knitted  with  string.  The  tunic, 
reaching  to  about  the  knee,  is  made  of  plain  knitting.  For 
the  neck,  cast  off  *  of  stitches  in  centre  and  continue  each 
end  for  about  6  rows.  Sew  back  and  front  together,  joining 
shoulders  and  sides  and  leaving  armholes. 

For  sleeves,  cast  on  about  40,  according  to  size  of  armhole 
(plain  casting-on) ;  decrease  between  shoulder  and  elbow  to 
30  and  between  elbow  and  wrist  to  20  stitches.  For  leggings, 
cast  on  about  50  stitches  (German  fashion) ;  knit  backwards 
and  forwards  on  two  needles,  but  decrease,  as  for  a  stocking, 
to  ankle ;  increase,  as  for  heel  of  a  stocking,  and  finish  foot, 
minus  the  sole.  Join  the  legging  up  the  back  and  sew  the 
foot  onto  a  leather  sole. 

The  bottom  of  the  head-covering  is  sewed  into  the  neck  of 
the  tunic. 

The  leggings  are  fastened  up  under  the  tunic  with  black 
elastic  to  a  belt.  The  whole  suit,  when  finished,  can  be  dyed 
grey,  with  black  Maypole  Soap,  or  with  Horles'  blue-black 
ink,  and  water.  When  dry,  it  can  be  silvered  here  and  there. 
Plate  armour  can  be  made  of  buckram,  or  of  felt,  damped  and 
put  on  a  mould — a  large  bottle  will  do — to  give  the  round 
of  the  leg  or  arm.  While  on  the  mould,  it  is  painted  over 
with  plaster  of  Paris.  Strings,  to  fasten  on  the  leg  and  arm 
pieces,  must  be  attached  before  the  plaster  hardens.  When 
hard  and  dry,  it  must  be  black- leaded  and  silvered.  House- 
maids' gloves,  black-leaded  and  silvered,  make  excellent 
gauntlets.  For  large  quantities  of  gilding  and  silvering  it  is 
easier  and  cheaper  to  use  gold  or  aluminium  silver  powder 
(about  6d.  an  oz.)  mixed  with  "  White  Polish."  Borders 
and  embroideries  can  be  stencilled  with  this  paint  or  done 
with  gold  braid,  4M.  per  dozen  yards,  from  Burnet  &  Co., 
22  Garrick  Street,  Covent  Garden. 


8  DRESSES 


-ft 


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■a 


l5aC^  4  ~t>uruJr 


rtXcytU:   C?0  h&btLu  UkJjl 


DRESSES 


Wood 


c 

Cs>  o 

S-tCtcA^i, 

A 

A 

Beginning  of  Hood. 

A  to  C  is  length  from  forehead  to  back  of  head. 
Join  A  and  B  to  form  a  hood. 


Finished  Hood. 


10 


DRESSES 


Shields  can  be  made  of  cardboard,  and  swords  and  spears 
of  wood  ;  all  black-leaded  and  then  silvered. 

White  stockings,  about  4M.  a  pair,  can  be  had  and  dyed 
brown  or  any  colour,  as  can  common  white  canvas  shoes. 

King  John,  on  his  monument  at  Worcester,  wears  a  tunic, 
with  wide  sleeves,  to  a  little  below  the  knee.  Beneath  this  is 
a  longer,  tight-sleeved  tunic.  The  end  of  his  belt  hangs 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  super-tunic.  His  cloak  is  fastened 
far  back  on  his  shoulders. 

Ecclesiastical  dress  is  clearly  shown  on  the  seal  of  Stephen 
Langton  in  the  British  Museum.  He  wears  the  chasuble,  cut 
in  an  elliptic  shape  so  as  to  hang  in  a  point,  back  and  front, 
and  to  be  shorter  on  the  arms  ;  under  this  is  the  wide-sleeved 
dalmatic,  beneath  which  appears  the  long  alb  with  tight 
sleeves  to  the  wrist.  He  has  the  pall,  a  narrow  strip  of 
embroidered  cloth  worn  by  an  archbishop. 

Benedictine  monks  wore  a  black  habit.  The  canons  had 
a  black  cloak,  fitting  to  the  shoulders,  and  hanging  down 
behind  to  the  ground;  in  front  the  cloak  only  reaches  to 
above  the  waist. 

The  generality  of  people  in  John's  reign  wore  short  tunics 
and  hoods.  The  legs  were  sometimes  "  cross-gartered "  to 
the  knee.     Green  seems  to  have  been  a  fashionable  colour. 

Women  wore  long,  loose  gowns,  fastened  with  a  girdle. 
The  head  and  shoulders  were  wrapped  in  a  wimple. 

Warriors  were  completely  clad  in  chain  mail.  Over  the 
hauberk  or  coat  of  mail  was  worn  a  lineirsurcoat,  fastened  with 
a  belt.  A  square-shaped  helmet  was  often  worn  over  the  hood 
of  mail.  Sometimes  there  was  a  steel  head-covering  under  the 
"coif  de  mailles,"  giving  to  the  whole  head  a  square  appearance. 

The  dress  of  Edward  III.'s  reign  was  rich  and  fantastic  in 
colour  and  material.  Parti-coloured  garments  were  fashion- 
able; mottoes  were  embroidered  on  borders;  rich  jewelled 
belts  were  worn.  It  was  the  age  of  tournaments  and  heraldry, 
and  both  men  and  women  had  their  arms  emblazoned  on 
surcoats  and  dresses. 

The  fashionable  garment  was   the  "  cote-hardie  "  or  very 


DRESSES 


n 


tight-fitting  tunic,  buttoned  all  the  way  down  the  front  and 
reaching  to  the  middle  of  the  thigh.  A  long  mantle  was  worn 
over  this  tunic,  fastened  on  the  right  shoulder.  When  hang- 
ing down,  it  covered  the  wearer  to  his  ankles.  With  the 
cloak,  a  hood  was  often  worn  which  fitted  the  shoulders. 

Poor  men  wore  looser,  belted  tunics,  short  cloaks  and 
hoods ;  linen  or  woollen  trousers  which  were  held  in  at  the 
ankle  by  leather  boots. 

Chain  mail  was  now  much  superseded  by  plate  armour. 
The  Black  Prince,  in  his  effigy  at  Canterbury,  wears  a  conical 
helmet  to  which  is  fastened  the  "  camail "  or  tippet  of  mail. 
Over  his  chain  mail  coat,  which  is  hidden,  he  wears  a  surcoat 
of  stuff,  emblazoned  with  his  arms. 

Queen  Philippa  and  the  ladies  of  her  time  are  recognised  at 
once  by  the  two  masses  of  square  plaits  at  the  sides  of  the  face. 
The  plaits  and  the  back  of  the  head  were  covered  with  a  gold  net. 

The  figure  of  Princess  Joan  on  Edward  III.'s  tomb  shows  the 
costume  of  the  time  ;  the  long  close-fitting  gown  ;  the  streamers 
from  the  over-sleeve  ;  the  pocket  in  the  front  of  the  dress. 

Ordinary  women  wore  a  short  over-dress,  the  skirt  often 
open  at  the  side,  and  showing  the  longer  under-dress.  Their 
heads  were  wrapped  in  veils  or  hoods. 

Edward  III.  quartered  the  fieurs-de-lys  of  France  with  the 
English  lions  or  "leopards,"  as  they  were  heraldically  called. 
The  arms  of  Holland  and  Chandos  were,  respectively  :  Azure, 
seme  of  fieurs-de-lys,  a  lion  rampant  argent ;  and  or,  a  pile 
gules. 

The  chief  colours  for  heraldry  are  indicated  thus :  vertical  lines 
signify  gules,  or  red ;  horizontal  lines  represent  azure,  or  blue ; 
vertical  and  horizontal  lines  crossing  each  other,  sable,  or  black  ; 
a  dotted  surface,  or,  or  gold ;  and  the  plain  surface,  argent, 
silver  or  white. 

The  figures  on  Edward  III.'s  tomb  in  Westminster  Abbey 
give  an  excellent  idea  of  both  men  and  women's  dress  in  this 
reign.  Numerous  pictures  of  ecclesiastical,  military,  and  civil 
dress  of  the  reigns  of  both  John  and  Edward  III.  are  found 
in  F.  W.  Fairholt's  "Costume  in  England"  (Bonn's  Artists' 


I2  PROPERTIES 

Series),  vol.  i.,  and  in  J.  R.  Green's  "  History  of  the  English 
People,"  vol.  i. 

The  prologue  in  the  first  play  can  be  sung  to  a  Gregorian 

or  to  any  solemn  chant. 

The  music  for  the  songs,  &c,  in  "Edward  III."  is  found  in 
most  collections  of  old  English  melodies.  The  Weavers' 
Song  is,  "When  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again";  the 
Knights'  song,  "You  Gentlemen  of  England."  The  dance 
is  a  Morris  Dance,  the  "Maypole."  These  are  numbers  72, 
6,  and  65,  in  "Songs  of  the  British  Islands,"  W.  H.  Hadow, 
J.  Curwen,  2s.  6d. 

The  song  at  the  end  of  Scene  III.  in  "  Edward  III."  is 
"  Agincourt,"  published  in  "  Old  English  Popular  Music  "  by 
Chappell  &  Co.,  who  have  kindly  given  special  permission  for 
its  reproduction  here.  Though  composed  in  honour  of  the 
battle  fought  nearly  seventy  years  later,  the  ancient  melody 
and  words  serve  aptly  as  a  triumph  song  for  Crecy. 

PROPERTIES:  MAGNA   CARTA 
ACT   I 

Scene  I.— Chair.     Table.     Shield.     Bag  of  money. 

Scene  II. — Throne.     Benches.     A  charter. 

Scene  III. — A  couch.  Table.  Food,  jug,  cups,  &c.  Straws 
and  rushes.     Parchment. 

Scene  IV. — Throne.  Table.  Bench.  Parchments ;  ink- 
horns,  pens,  taper,  wax.  Scroll.  Banner.  The  Great  Charter. 
Seal. 

PROPERTIES  :  EDWARD    III 

ACT    I 

Scene  I. — Bushes  of  green. 

Scene  II. — Bushes.     Bow  and  arrows.     Bag  of  money. 

Scene  III. — Bushes.  Log  or  bench.  Food.  Cup.  Bow 
and  arrows.     King's  helmet,  crown,  shield.     Parchment. 

Scene  IV.— Two  thrones.  Table.  Chair.  Pie.  Bundle, 
containing  kirtle,  &c.  Dishes.  Broom.  Shield.  Guild  banners. 
Sacks  of  wool.     Veil. 


MAGNA    CARTA 
IN   ONE   ACT 


'    I  Mercenaries  of  King  John. 


CHARACTERS   REPRESENTED 

King  John. 

Stephen  Langton,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

William  Marshal,  Earl  of  Pembroke. 

Robert  Fitz- Walter,  Castellan  of  London. 

Henry  de  Bohun,  Earl  of  Hereford. 

Roger  Bigod,  Earl  of  Norfolk. 

Saer  de  Quincy,  Earl  of  Winchester. 

Eustace  de  Vescy,  Northern  Baron. 

Robert  de  Ros,  Northern  Baron. 

William  de  Braose,  Baron  of  Welsh  Marches. 

William  de  Braose,  eldest  son  of  the  former. 

Giles  de  Braose,  Bishop  of  Hereford,  second  son  of  William 

de  Braose. 
Falk.es  de  Breaute, 
Gerald  de  Athies, 
Two  Londoners. 
Two  Monks. 
A  Canon  of  St.  Paul's. 
A  Messenger. 
Maud  de  St.  Valerie,  wife  of  William  de  Braose. 

ACT   I 

Scene  I. — About  the  year  1208.  In  a  castle  of  William 
de  Braose  on  the  Marches  of  Wales. 

Scene  II. — August  12 13.     London.     St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 

Scene  III. — About  Easter,  12 15.    In  a  castle  of  King  John. 

Scene  IV. — June  15,  1215.     Runnymede. 

The  incidents  of  the  meeting  held  at  St.  Paul's  in  12 13 
have  been  slightly  interwoven  with  later  events,  as  that  of  the 
barons'  assembly  at  St.  Edmund's  in  the  following  year. 

The  hostage  demanded  was  the  grandson  and  not  the  son 
of  William  de  Braose. 

Ml 


MAGNA    CARTA 


PROLOGUE 

Spoken  or  chanted  by  one  of  the  Monks 

Lo,  now  is  virtue  fastly  bound 
While  evil  walketh  wide  and  free ; 
And  proud  oppression  sitteth  crowned, 
And  homeless  wanders  charitie, — ' 
When  shall  our  sorrows  have  an  end 
When  will  this  trouble  God  amend  ? 

For  now  is  justice  bought  and  sold, 
Her  sword  upheld  by  villanie  ; 
And  truth  is  counted  less  than  gold, 
And  pity  pleadeth  bootlessly ; 
When  shall  injustice  have  an  end, 
And  God,  His  law  and  counsel  send? 

Now  is  our  day  become  as  night ; 
The  battle  is  for  them  who  flee ; 
And  might  through  all  the  land  is  right, 
Which  hath  none  other  sovereigntie ; 
When  will  He  help  from  heaven  send, 

When  will  our  trouble  God  amend  ? 

is 


1 6  MAGNA  CARTA 

ACT  I 

SCENE  I 

About  the  year  1208. 

A  room  in  the  castle  <?/"  William  de  Braose.     A  chair 
and  a  table  on  right.     Shield  hanging  on  wall. 

Enter,  left,  Maud  de  Braose,  leading  her  eldest  son, 
followed  by  Falkes  de  Breaute  and  Gerald  de 
AthieS;  she  comes  centre:  turns  left  and  faces  the 
two  men ;  son  stands  right,  beside  her. 

Maud.  Away  with  you  !  Why  should  I  give  my 
son  as  hostage  to  the  King  ? 

Falkes  (shows  piece  of  parchment).  If  ye'd  know 
why,  then  read  the  King's  word  against  your  husband. 
Nay,  I'm  not  clerk  to  read  it,  but  I  know  how  'tis 
set.  For  that  which  the  King  gave  him  in  Limerick 
is  William  de  Braose  bound  to  render  500  marks  a 
year.  This  he  hath  not  done.  The  King  complains 
neglect  of  aid  and  service  from  a  vassal   to  whom 

he  gave  rich  lands,  fair  castles 

Maud.    Which  he  held  bravely  for  the  King 

Son.    It  was  but  fitting  recompense 

Maud.  Aye,  recompense  for  faithful  service. 
(Aside.)  Or  gifts,  perchance,  to  silence  the  tongue 
of  one  who  knew  perforce  too  much  of  his  dark 
counsels.  (Aloud.)  If  we  have  served  him  well,  why 
should  we  yield  up  our  eldest  son  as  hostage  ? 

Gerald  (creeps  towards  Maud  and  whispers 
aloud).  Because  the  King  doth  doubt  your  husband's 
loyalty. 


MAGNA   CARTA  17 

Enter,  left,  William  de  Braose  and  his  son, 
Giles  de  Braose. 

William.  Who  doubts  my  loyalty  ?  I  have  served 
the  King  as  well  as  any  man — I  am  ready  to  make 
answer  to  the  King  at  any  place  and  time  which  he 
will  name. 

Giles.  Who  dare  make  accusation  against  a  noble 
and  an  honourable  house  ? 

William.  The  lords  de  Braose  have  been  faithful, 
e'en  since  Duke  William's  days. 

Falkes.  Nathless,  William  de  Braose,  the  King 
doth  doubt  you  ;  believes  that  ye  are  leagued  with  his 
enemies.  He  suffers  no  uncertain  servants  to  dwell 
on  the  Marches  of  rebellious  Wales.  The  King 
requires  security  from  you ;  a  hostage  to  hold  fast 
in  one  of  his  castles. 

Gerald  (aside).  To  hang  on  the  first  oak  tree  if 
ye  should  prove  a  rebel  ! 

Falkes.  He  now  commands  that,  without  let  or 
hindrance,  you  give  up  your  eldest  and  well-loved 
son.  [Seizes young  De  Braose. 

William  (puts  out  hand).  This  is  a  hard  command. 

Son.    I  will  not  go  with  you  ! 

Falkes.    Ye  shall.     (Drags  him  left.)    Come  ! 

[Gerald  sets  on  him. 

Maud  (rushes  forward).  He  shall  not  take  him  ! 

William  (aside  to  Wife).  Think  you,  we  dare  so 
openly  defy  the  King  ?  [Falkes  holds  Son. 

Maud.  I  dare!  (To  Husband.)  Oh,  do  not  let 
him  go.  He  never  will  return.  (To  Falkes.)  He 
shall  not  have  him  !  I  will  not  give  my  son  into  the 
hands  of  a  King  who  foully  murdered  Arthur,  his  own 
brother's  child  ! 

B 


1 8  MAGNA   CARTA 


Falkes.  Ye  say  this- 


Maud.  Yea,  verily  ;  I  say  this — I,  Maud  de  Braose, 
say  this  of  King  John. 

Gerald.  And  you  shall  bitterly  repent  your  words. 

Falkes.  Aye  indeed — you  and  yours. 

William.  Wife,  what  have  ye  done  ? 

Maud.  I  have  but  spoke  truth.  Ye  know  it  too. 
Ye  know  that  black  deed  done  'twixt  eve  and  cock- 
crow, not  six  Aprils  since  in  Rouen.  {Raises  arms.) 
All  the  world  shall  know  it  ! 

Falkes  {bows  mockingly).  I  will  be  careful  that  the 
King  hears  your  hardy  answers. 

Gerald  {aside).  He  will  devise,  methinks,  some 
curious  recompense  for  you. 

William  {turns  away).  Wife,  your  rash  words  will 
cost  our  lives. 

Maud  {clasps  hands).  Nay,  nay,  my  lord,  upbraid 
me  not.  Ye  still  are  silent.  Husband,  sons,  have  ye 
less  courage  now  than  I  ?  Defy  a  King  who  is  a 
murderer  ! 

William.  Silence  !     Ye  are  mad. 

Maud.  If  I  am  mad,  then  'tis  with  bitter  grief ;  with 
wrong  done  unto  you,  my  lord. 

William.  Alas  !     Your  rage  is  bootless. 

Maud.  Nay,  it  is  not  !  {Turns  on  Falkes  and 
Gerald.)  Now  get  you  hence  !  Falkes  de  Breaute, 
Gerald  de  Athies  :  outlandish,  low-born  hirelings  ! 

Falkes.  Insolent  woman  !  We  are  servants  of  the 
King  ! 

Maud.  I  know  you  both — mud  of  Ponthieu  and 
dust  of  Normandy.  You — to  insult  a  noble  baron 
in  his  own  castle.     Hence  !     Out  of  my  sight ! 

Falkes.  We  will  not  stay.  Nay,  never  !  But  go 
straightway,  report  your  sayings  to  the  King. 


MAGNA   CARTA  19 

Gerald.    I  vow  that  you  and  yours  shall  rue  this 

day  !  [FALKES  and  GERALD  go  out  left. 

[William  sinks  down  in  chair,  buries  face  in 

his  hands.     Two  sons  stand  behind  on 

right;   whisper  anxiously  together  from 

time  to  time. 

William.  Now  all  is  lost,  lost  utterly.  Alas 
{wrings  hands),  our  glory  is  departed,  and  the  wealth, 
the  lands  I  strove  for  year  by  year,  all  lost.  [Looks 
up.)     Unhappy  wife,  what  have  ye  done  ? 

Maud  [kneels  beside  him).  I  have  done  naught  where- 
in there  was  offence  to  you.  Turn  not  from  me. 
Dear  my  lord  [takes  his  hand),  ye  know  that  ye  were 
doomed  to  his  displeasure  long  ago.  E'en  while  the 
King  put  gifts  into  your  hands  he  hated  you.  You 
knew  too  much  of  Arthur's  death.  All  your  long 
service  and  friendship  are  worth  naught,  beside  your 
crime  of  being  honest,  of  having  hands  unstained  by 
innocent  blood.  Look  not  with  anger  on  me.  To- 
day I  have  only  brought  myself  within  the  ranging  of 
his  fury,  where  you  were  before — and  I  shall  fall  with 
you,  I  reck  not  how. 

Son.  We'll  all  die  together  if  need  be.  Who  comes 
in  haste  ? 

Enter,  left,  William  Marshal. 

William  [rises).   The  Earl  of  Pembroke. 

Marshal.  William  de  Braose,  I  counsel  you  to 
leave  your  castle  and  to  flee.  The  anger  of  the  King 
is  hot  against  you  and  your  family.  Come  with  me 
now  to  Ireland  where  the  De  Lacys  will  receive  and 
shield  you. 

Maud.    We're  hunted,  driven 


2o  MAGNA   CARTA 

Marshal  {to  Maud).  I  do  advise  you  to  keep 
silence  now. 

William  (to  Maud).  Aye  indeed.  (To  Marshal.) 
Think  you  our  danger  presses  ? 

Marshal.  Verily,  the  King  cometh  against  you  ;  is 
not  three  leagues  hence.  He  bringeth  fire  and  sword 
along  with  him. 

William.    Know  you  the  cause  of  his  coming  now  ? 

Giles.  Sooner  inquire  why  lightning,  whirlwind, 
or  the  thunderbolt  do  come  ! 

Marshal.  Stay  not  for  rede  or  question.  Take 
what  gold  you  have  and  haste  unto  the  coast,  where  I 
have  boats  in  readiness.  Ere  it  be  dark,  ye  must  be 
on  the  sea. 

William.  This  castle  will  fall  into  his  hands.  He 
can  make  my  proud  towers  lie  even  with  the  grass  ! 

Marshal.    Alas  !  methinks  you  are  doomed. 

William.  I  knew  I  should  not  long  escape,  and 
certain  rash  words  to  his  messengers  have  hastened 
on  our  ruin.  Come,  wife  and  son  ;  there's  naught 
but  flight.  (Takes  out  bag  of  money.)  What  gold  and 
treasure  we  have  stored,  we'll  take. 

Maud  (ivraps  veil  round  her).  Thus  forced  to  creep 
like  thieves  from  our  own  castle  and  domain  ! 

Giles.    Mother,  we  have  no  choice 

Marshal.  Take  comfort.  Many  a  brave  knight 
has  fled  the  country  in  these  troubled  times. 

William  (takes  down  shield).  Troubled — aye,  good 
sooth,  could  the  skies  look  more  hard  ?  We  will  to 
Ireland. 

Marshal  (aside).  I  pray  that  even  yonder  ye  be 
not  trapped  and  slain. 

William  (draws  sword).  With  this  sword,  since  I 
was  made  a  knight,  I  have  served  the  King.     I  fought 


William  Marshal. 
From  his  tomb,  Temple  Church. 


22  MAGNA   CARTA 

for  Richard — peace  be  to  the  Lion-hearted  !  Then, 
by  the  wrath  of  heaven,  was  I  doomed  to  fight  for 
John.  {To  Marshal.)  For  him,  ye  know,  I  did  mine 
utmost, — for  a  craven  and  a  murderous  King  who 
turns  from  battle  though  he  turneth  not  from  slaughter. 
{Sheathes  sword.)  Oh,  I  have  done  with  all  that's  past. 
I  break  allegiance  to  a  lord  whom  men  call  "Soft 
Sword,"  though,  heaven  knows,  his  heart  is  hard. 
When  1  return  to  England,  if  I  do  return— I  come 
with  this  sword  drawn  against  the  King. 

Son.    Aye,  against  the  King  ! 

William.  I'll  burn  his  lands.  {To  Giles.)  Fare- 
well, good  son.  Hie  you  to  France  for  safety.  These 
are  ill  days  for  bishop  as  for  baron ;  perilous  for 
clerk  and  soldier  who  are  not  servants  in  the  devil's 
pay. 

Giles.  Farewell,  my  father,  mother,  brother  ;  get 
you  to  safety  with  the  good  Earl  of  Pembroke  who  is 
still  our  friend.  Bishop  of  Hereford  am  I — the  mourn- 
ful shepherd  of  a  sad  and  scattered  flock  ;  and  yet  as 
such,  I  bless  you.  {Lifts  his  hand ;  they  bend  their 
heads.)  And  as  son  {kneels),  I  beg  your  blessing. 
{Father  and  mother  lift  their  hands.)  Now  fare  you 
well.  I  pray  ye  fall  not  victims  to  the  fury  of  the 
King.     I  think  we  shall  not  ever  meet  again. 

Maud.  If  we  must  die,  then  may  our  dying  call 
down  vengeance  from  on  high  ;  may  it  cry  out  for 
mercy  on  this  miserable  land  ! 

[William  de  Braose,  WTife  and  Son,  go 
out  left  with  William  Marshal. 

Giles.  So  I  am  left  alone,  alone — all  fled,  and  the 
earth  darkens,  and  the  tide  of  woe  arises  day  by  day. 
O  most  unhappy  country,  shamed  in  the  eyes  of  all 
Christendom   by  thy  most   shameful    King ;    cursed, 


MAGNA   CARTA  23 

laid  under  interdict  ;  with  Church  despoiled ;  the 
archbishop  in  exile.  We  cry,  H  How  long  ?  how  long  ?  " 
The  noblest  barons  are  treated  as  slaves ;  taxed 
unlawfully,  dragged  o'er  the  seas  to  fight  the  losing 
battle  of  a  caitiff.  Evil  is  crowned  in  England,  good 
is  dead.  Where  shall  I  turn  or  go  for  help.  Alone 
there  standeth  Stephen  Langton,  the  archbishop.  He 
is  a  rock  on  which  God  builds  ;  a  pilot  for  His  Ark 
almost  o'erwhelmed  with  waves ;  a  star  to  herald 
dayspring  in  our  night.  I  will  go  to  him.  He  per- 
chance can  save  our  cause  ere  all  be  lost. 

[Goes  out  left. 


SCENE    II 

August  1 2 13. 

London,  St.  Paul's.     A  throne  in  centre,  with 
benches  or  seats  on  either  side. 

Enter,  left,  a  Monk  and  a  Canon  of  St.  Paul's. 

Monk.  Tis  a  great  gathering  in  your  cathedral 
to-day. 

Canon.  Verily.  The  archbishop — late  returned 
from  exile  since  the  King  made  truce  with  Holy 
Church — hath  summoned  many  here. 

Monk.    Know  you  who  come  ? 

Canon.  I  saw  the  roll  of  those  who  meet  to-day 
within  our  walls.  Our  bishop — William  of  London — 
will  be  here,  and  Peter  of  Winchester,  Eustace  of 
Ely,  Giles  of  Hereford  ;  bishops,  abbots,  priors,  aye, 
and  mark  you,  many  barons  of  the  realm. 


24  MAGNA   CARTA 

Monk.  A  goodly  company,  I  trow.  They  will  be 
here  anon.  ( Touches  Canon's  arm.)  Why,  think  you, 
they  are  come  together  now  ? 

Canon.  Is  it  not  to  talk  of  Church  dues  ;  atone- 
ment for  despoiled  revenues  ? 

Monk.  Aye,  perchance  ;  and  yet  methinks  there's 
other  business  a-foot.  Armed  barons  come  not  only 
to  talk  of  Mother  Church  and  her  distress  ;  they've 
other  work,  I  think. 

Canon.  I  pray  that  help  is  nigh  for  this  poor 
country  and  for  the  Church  ;  that  gates  of  Tartarus 
may  not  prevail  against  us  !  [Goes  out  left. 

Monk.    Exurgat  Deus,  et  dissipentur  inimici  ejus  ! 

[Goes  out  left. 

Enter,  left,  ROBERT  FlTZ-W ALTER  and  EUSTACE 

DE   VESCY. 

Fitz-Walter.  Well  met,  Eustace  de  Vescy.  You 
and  I  are  home  from  exile  none  too  quickly.  You 
from  Scotland,  I  from  France,  where  we  fled  for 
safety.  Faith  !  the  world  wags  strangely  ;  the  impious 
King  is  pardoned  and  hath  given  his  kingdom  to  the 
Pope.  We've  come  home  to  find,  I  think,  our 
wrongs  increased.  What  hath  the  King  done  in  our 
absence  ?  My  Baynard's  Castle,  here  in  London, 
burnt ;  my  lands  in  Essex  wasted  ;  woods,  warrens, 
fisheries 

De  Vescy.    I  have  no  less  complaint. 

Enter,  left,  ROBERT  DE  Ros. 

De  Vescy.  Will  ye  not  bear  witness,  Robert  de 
Ros,  that  we  barons  of  the  north  are  likewise  driven 
to  extremity  ? 


MAGNA   CARTA 


25 


De  Ros.  Aye  indeed,  why  should  we  give  unjust 
scutage ;  be  urged  beyond  endurance  ?  We  nor- 
therners do  well  to  say  him  nay.  {To  De  Vescy.) 
Your  Alnwick  castle  is  in  ruins ;  burnt  in  your 
absence  by  the  King  ! 

De  Vescy.  That  is  my  welcome  home,  writ  large 
in    flames !     My   towers   are   ruined.     I    shall    laugh 


Arms  of  Robert  Fitz- Walter. 
Or,  a  fesse  between  2  chevrons  gu. 


Arms  of  Robert  de  Ros. 
Gu.,  3  water  bougets  argt. 


bitterly  to  see  the  north  wind  blow  the  ashes  of  my 
roof-tree  to  and  fro  ! 

De  Ros.  We'll  fan  some  flames  and  light  another 
fire  !  See  who  now  come  ;  the  earls,  of  Hereford,  of 
Norfolk,  and  of  Winchester. 

Enter,  left,  Henry  de  Bohun,  Roger  Bigod, 
Saer  de  Quincy. 

Can  we  not  also   kindle   fires  ?     Roger    Bigod,   will 
your  east  country  burn  for  us  ? 

Bigod.    I  guess  your  meaning.     Verily,  'twill  burn. 


26  MAGNA   CARTA 

It   is   as  stubble   ready  for  the  flame.     Is't  not,   De 
Bohun  ? 

De  Bohun.  Truly,  good  friends  ;  the  west  is  ready 
too.  And  here  comes  one  who  hath  as  great  a  cause 
for  grief  as  any  of  us  here. 

Enter,  left,  Giles  de  Braose  ;  head  shrouded 
in  his  mantle ;  sits  right. 

Giles.  Ah,  I  have  grief  which  almost  robs  me  of 
a  tongue  to  speak.  Who  can  tell  the  ruin  of  our 
house  ;  who  declare  our  woe  ? 

Fitz-Walter.  Your  father,  William  de  Braose,  is 
exiled  ? 

Giles.   Exiled,  aye,  exiled  ;  beggared,  dead 

De  Vescy.   Your  brother,  mother  ? 

Giles.  Dead.  (Rises  and  approaches  him.)  How 
dead  ?  Shall  I  whisper,  Eustace,  in  your  ear  how 
Maud  de  Braose  and  her  son  did  die  ? 

[  Whispers.     De  Vescy  starts  in  horror. 

De  Vescy.  What,  starved  ?  Nay,  was  it  so  ? 
Slowly,  day  by  day  ?  Done  thus  to  death  in  the 
castle  tower. 

Fitz-Walter.   Oh,  enemy  of  Nature,  John  ! 

Giles.  Are  there  no  swords  to  avenge  the  wrong 
I  never  can  forget ;  or  justice  to  calm  my  grief-dis- 
tracted mind  ? 

Fitz-Walter.  I  trow  there  shall  be!  Here's  my 
sword  ;   I'll  fight. 

De  Bohun.  And  I. 

All  Generally.  And  I. 

Bigod  {lifts  sword).  We  all  will  fight,  if  he  refuse 
redress. 

De  Bohun.  WTho'll  guide  our  counsel ;  set  forth 
our  wrongs  before  the  King  ? 


MAGNA   CARTA  27 

Enter,  left,  Archbishop  Langton  with  William 
Marshal,  two  Monks,  and  Canon  with  a 
parchment. 

Fitz-Walter.  Stephen  the  archbishop,  he  shall 
speak  for  us.  (To  Langton.)  Hail,  holy  father  !  Now 
at  last,  brought  to  your  flock  in  England. 

Langton  (stands  centre,  lifts  right  hand ;  all  boiv 
their  heads).  Blessing  upon  you  all,  my  sons.  My 
heart  hath  yearned  for  you,  when,  as  an  exile,  I  lived 
across  the  sea,  watching,  praying  for  the  sheep  I 
might  not  feed  or  guide  ;  pleading  at  Rome  for  our 
poor  Church.  (Giles  kneels,  right,  at  his  feet ;  Langton 
places  hand  on  his  head.)  I  know  your  griefs,  almost 
past  bearing,  and  I  fain  would  carry  all  your  woes, 
my  children ;  wear  out  in  mine  own  body  all  the 
sorrows  of  the  land,  if  that  might  be. 

Fitz-Walter.  We  ask  your  counsel,  father.  How 
shall  our  wrongs  be  set  right  ? 

De  Vescy.  If  the  King  will  not  hear  us,  shall  we 
not  rise,  burn,  harry 

Langton  (sternly).  Ye  shall  not  fill  the  land  with 
war  and  wild  confusion  ;  rebellion,  lawless  fighting, 
man  'gainst  man,  as  'twas  in  Stephen's  time,  when 
the  poor  cried  in  vain,  saying  God's  saints  did 
sleep. 

De  Vescy.   The  saints  sleep  now 

Marshal  (points  to  Langton).  Nay,  Eustace,  they 
do  watch  continually  for  us. 

[LANGTON  seats  himself  in  centre ;  Monks, 
Canon,  Giles  behind  him  •,  Marshal, 
De  Vescy,  De  Ros,  De  Quincy  on 
right ;  De  BOHUN  and  BiGOD  on  left. 

De  Vescy  (aside  to  De  Ros).     Were  it  not  better 


28  MAGNA   CARTA 

that  a  soldier  counselled  us  ?     This  is  no  hour  for 
mild  rede  or  mercy. 

De  Ros  {rises).  Verily,  it  should  be  war,  war — 
I  have  a  wrong  I  will  avenge. 

Fitz-Walter.  I  have  a  greater  wrong  than  yours, 
I  trow. 

Langton.  If  ye  fight,  each  man  for  his  own  venge- 
ance, ye  will  fail  and  all  be  brought  to  naught.  Re- 
member that  the  King  hath  riches,  many  followers  still 
and  hirelings  from  abroad.     See  that  ye  act  together. 

Marshal.   Truly,  else  all  will  fail. 

Langton.  Remember  your  allegiance,  that  shall  be 
broken  only  in  extremity.  We  must  restore  good  laws 
and  customs.  That  alone  will  help  us.  Hearken  all  of  ye! 

All.    We  hearken. 

Langton.  Did  ye  hear  how  when  I  absolved  the 
King  at  Winchester — 'tis  scarce  a  month  ago — I 
made  him  swear  that  he  would  do  away  with  unjust 
laws  and  would  recall  good  laws  and  make  them  to 
be  observed  within  his  kingdom  ? 

Fitz-Walter.   Truly,  we  remember  this. 

Langton.  Here  in  this  cathedral  where  we  are 
gathered,  has  a  charter  of  the  first  Henry  now  been 
found,  by  which,  if  you  desire,  you  may  bring  back 
your  long-lost  rights  and  former  liberties 

Marshal.    That  were  a  prudent  course. 

Fitz-Walter.    Where  is  it  ? 

Langton  {to  Canon).  Bring  forth  this  charter. 

[Takes  roll  from  Canon. 

Langton.  Here  did  Henry,  son  of  King  William, 
promise  when  he  was  crowned,  to  rule  well  and 
lawfully. 

Fitz-Walter  {rises).  If  we  had  aught  like  this  it 
would  be  well. 


MAGNA   CARTA  29 

De  Quincy  {rises).   Aye 

[Others  rise. 

Langton.  Barons  of  England,  if  ye  could  win  a 
charter  such  as  this  and  maybe  wider,  our  country 
would  revive  and  live. 

Marshal  (rises).  My  lord,  you  shall  set  forth  a 
charter  for  us  now,  and  I  and  every  man  who  wishes 
well  to  England  and  her  King,  will  urge  the  King's 
acceptance  of  the  same. 

Langton.  If  I  do  so,  then  must  ye  all  stand 
together  and  uphold  the  honour  of  the  Church  and 
each  one  of  you  do  justice  to  your  men — mark  this — 
as  ye  would  have  the  King  deal  rightfully  with  you. 
(Rises.)  Only  if  he  refuse,  shall  ye  make  war  upon 
the  King.     Will  you  swear  to  this  ? 

All.    We  will. 

De  Vescy.  And  fight,  if  need  be,  for  our  charter. 
If  we  are  forced  to  battle,  father,  who  shall  lead  our 
host? 

Marshal.  Fitz-Walter  is  a  brave  and  valiant 
soldier. 

Langton.  Would  you  have  Fitz-Walter  for  your 
leader  ? 

All.    Aye  so. 

Langton  (to  Fitz-Walter).  If  you  are  called  to 
fight  for  this  our  cause,  be  called  the  Marshal  of 
God's  Army  and  of  the  Holy  Church. 

Fitz-Walter  (kneels  centre,  before  LANGTON).  May 
I  be  worthy  !  (Rises.)  I  vow  before  the  archbishop 
in  this  holy  place,  that  I  will  maintain  the  charter, 
and,  if  the  King  refuse,  will  fight  for  it  till  death. 

[Lifts  sword. 

De  Bohun  (steps  fortvard).   And  so  I  swear.     (Lifts 


3o  MAGNA   CARTA 

sword.)     Until  with  his  own  seal  the  King  confirms 
what  we  require. 

Bigod.    And  I  the  same. 

De  Vescy  (moves  centre).  And  I  ;  remembering  the 
flames  of  Alnwick  and  my  blackened  lands. 

\His  hand  on  sword. 
De  Ros.    The  barons  of  the  North  so  speak. 
De  Quincy  [lifts  sword).    I,  Earl  of  Winchester,  do 
swear,  with  hatred  for  a  coward  and  a  faithless  lord, 
deep  in  my  heart. 

Giles  [comes  forward).  Though  I  am  priest,  not 
soldier,  I  will  go  with  you.  For  those  who  died 
unpitied,  I  will  swear.  (Lifts  arm.)  Father,  mother 
and  brother,  witness  me  ! 

Langton.    Ye  all  are  bound  by  oath. 

\_All  raise  swords  on  either  side  ^/"LANGTON, 
who  stands  centre  with  hands  clasped. 
All.    We  all  are  bound  by  oath. 
Langton.    I    will    uphold    your   cause   before   the 
King.      I   have    no    fear.     I    will  guide  you  because 
I    love  this  land  and    have    been    made  a  shepherd 
and    a   father    to    you    all.      I   vow   to    never   leave 
you.     Go   in   peace  !       (Raises    ha?id;    all   bend   their 
heads.)     I    will   set  forth  your  charter,  and,  William 
Marshal,  since   you   are   older,  wise  above  the  rest, 
and    most    faithful,    you    shall   go   with    me    to    the 
King  and  we  will  show  him  what  you  all  demand. 
With  earnest  words  we  will   strive    to  win  his  true 
consent. 

[Langton  goes  out,  left,  followed  by  Giles 
de  Bkaose,  Canon  and  Monks,  Wil- 
liam Marshal,  Fitz- Walter,  De 
Vescy,  De  Ros,  De  Bohun,  Bigod, 
De  Quincy. 


MAGNA   CARTA  31 

SCENE    III 

About  Easter,  12 15. 

A  courtyard  in  one  of  King  John's  castles.  A  couch 
centre ;  table  beside  it,  right,  with  food,  cups,  &c. 
A  few  straws  or  rushes  scattered  on  ground. 

Enter,  left,  KING  JOHN,  a  roll  of  parchment  in  his  hand, 
followed  by  Falkes  de  Breaute  and  Gerald  de 
Athies. 

John  [flings  roll  on  ground).  Demands  of  the 
barons — redress  of  ills  !  I'll  none  of  them  !  {Throws 
himself  down  on  couch.  To  Gerald.)  Fetch  me  wine — 
I'm  hot  and  weary  with  this  westward  march.  Haste 
and  bring  me  wine.  [Exit,  left,  Gerald. 

(To  Falkes.)  Thou — hast  thou  done  my  bidding 
and  sent  spies  to  watch  the  rebels  ? 

Falkes.    I  have,  my  lord. 

John  {calls).  Here,  bring  the  wine  !  I'm  parched 
and  dry.  A  murrain  on  the  fool  to  keep  me  wait- 
ing so  ! 

Re-enter  hastily  Gerald  with  wine  ;  he  pours  it  into 
goblet,  which  John  snatches. 

Give  me  to  drink.  {Drinks.)  Nay,  more.  {Drinks 
again.)  Away  with  thee  !  I've  other  work  for  both 
of  ye  to  do.  I  shall  need  more  soldiers  from  whence 
you  came. 

Falkes.  My  lord,  I  can  raise  many  men  across  the 
sea  to  serve  you. 

Gerald.  And  I  also.  But  they,  like  us,  are  poor 
and  needy  men,  my  lord. 


32  MAGNA    CARTA 

John  {laughs).  Who  want  their  wages,  as  ye  do. 
I  catch  thy  meaning.  Well,  I  can  pay  you  all,  ye 
curs  !  I  have  money,  and  more  gold  I  mean  to  get. 
Methinks  the  clergy  and  the  Jews  alone  can  pay 
you.  Clergy  and  Jews  {laughs),  'tis  all  the  same  to 
me  which  do  it.  I  have  many  means,  as  fines,  im- 
prisonment and  fetters,  to  find  money  when  I  need 
it.     Have  I  not  ? 

Gerald.    That  is  true,  my  lord. 

John.  Dost  thou  remember  how  I  had  10,000  marks 
from  the  Jew  at  Bristol  ? 

Gerald.    Verily. 

John.  That  stubborn  one  did  love  his  gold,  and, 
day  by  day,  a  tooth  was  drawn  until  the  10,000  marks 
were  duly  paid.  Go  both  of  you  and  learn  what  news 
my  messengers  do  bring. 

[Falkes  and  Gerald  go  out  left. 

John  {rises  and  paces  up  and  down).  Oh,  I  will  force 
the  barons  to  obedience  once  again  !  De  Braose  can 
arise  no  more  ;  I've  silenced  those  shrewd  tongues. 
I  now  will  teach  De  Vescy,  Fitz-Walter,  and  their 
friends  a  lesson  which  they  will  not  soon  forget. 

Re-enter,  left,  Falkes. 

Falkes.  My  King,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
and  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  are  without  and  crave  to 
speak  with  you  on  weighty  matters. 

John.  A  plague  upon  them  !  Stephen  Langton — 
would  thou  hadst  followed  Archbishop  Hubert  Walter 
to  the  grave  !  I  hate  thy  gentle  cunning,  subtle  meek- 
ness, proud  humility.  Evil  light  on  thee  !  {To 
Falkes.)  Bring  them  before  me  here  ! 

[Sits  down  on  couch. 

Falkes    {aside,    as    he   goes    out).    I    thought    their 


MAGNA    CARTA 


33 


coming  would  much  anger  him.  He  hates  the  arch- 
bishop as  viper's  blood  !  [Goes  out,  left. 
John  {throws  himself  back  on  couch).  I  am  weary  ! 
When  shall  I  feast  at  leisure  in  my  halls,  or  follow 
the  tall  deer  through  silent  woods ;  and  then,  hot 
with  the  chase,  among  my  dogs,  lie  down  by  hidden 
fountains  in  the  shade  ?  Come  quickly,  Stephen 
Langton,  come  and  get  you  gone,  you  and  all  such 
disturbers  of  mine  ease  ! 

Enter,  left,  Stephen  Langton  and  William  Marshal, 

followed  by  Falkes. 

Langton  {raises  hand).  Greeting  and  blessing  unto 
you,  my  King  !  [Marshal  bows  low. 

John.  Blessing  ?  Do  I  need  more  ?  I  have  lately 
had  the  blessing  of  my  lord  the  Pope. 

Langton.  Whose  most  unworthy  servant  in  this 
land  I  am 

John.  Enough.  You  are  installed  at  Canterbury  now. 
You  have  your  lands  and  wealth  and  should  be  satisfied. 
We  will  not  talk  of  Holy  Church  to-day ;  I  have  no  mind 
to  do  so.  Kill  a  stag  or  fly  a  hawk  were  nigher  to  my 
present  pleasure.  So  speak  some  other  message  briefly 
and  have  done.  [Drinks  wine  on  table. 

[Langton  approaches  John  ;  Marshal  stands 
left ;  Falkes  right. 

Langton.  My  lord,  we  come  on  matters  which 
concern  you  closely.  You  will  not  send  me  hence 
when  I  come  to  plead  in  the  name  of  all  your  realm. 

John.  Langton,  you  have  ever  consorted  with  my 
enemies. 

Langton.  My  King,  I  am  your  friend  and  faithful 
servant.  [Takes  parchment  roll  from  floor.)  Your 
people  should  not  be  your  enemies.     I  counsel  you 

C 


34  MAGNA   CARTA 

to  use  your  wisdom  and  agree   to    their  most   just 
demands.  [Holds  out  parchment. 

John  {snatches  it).    Unjust  demands,  say  I  ! 

Marshal.  My  liege,  'tis  little  new  or  strange  the 
barons  ask. 

John.  New  or  old,  I  care  not.  Their  askings  are  vain 
dreams,  supported  by  no  plea  of  reason.  Aye,  I've 
heard  what  they  desire.  Why  did  not  the  barons  among 
their  unjust  demands  ask  to  take  my  kingdom  also  ? 

Langton.  My  lord,  we  beseech  you  now  to  keep 
that  kingdom  ;  not  to  let  it  fall  in  other  hands. 

Marshal  {kneels).   Truly,  my  King. 

Langton.  By  righteous  rule  and  justice  alone,  can 
you  do  so.    You  will  not  keep  the  kingdom  otherwise. 

John.    I'll  keep  it  as  I  will — no  other  way. 

Marshal  {rises).  My  lord,  the  barons  are  roused 
to  great  anger. 

John.  Are  they  so  angered  ?  I  will  let  them  see 
my  wrath  !     I'll  lay  their  castles  low,  burn,  waste 

Langton.  Remember  it  is  not  long  since  I  ab- 
solved you  at  Winchester.  With  the  kiss  of  peace 
and  tears  of  joy,  you  were  received  and  made  a 
Christian  King  once  more.  By  that  rite  and  by  the 
hallowing  and  anointing  of  the  day  when  you  were 
given  high  power  and  holy  trust,  so  that  men  should 
love  and  honour  you  above  your  fellows — by  these, 
I  do  conjure  you  now  to  hearken  to  your  people's 
prayer.  {Puts  hand  on  JoIuCs  arm.)  Set  up  the  rightful 
laws.  Drive  hence  these  foreign  hirelings  {looks  sternly 
at  Falkes)  who  make  war  on  your  own  subjects.  Be 
King  of  England  once  again  ! 

John  {shakes  off  Langton  ;  springs  up).  I  will  be 
King  of  England  !  There  you  speak  truth  !  I  will  be 
King,  and  not  a  slave  !  Think  you  I  will  listen  to 
commands  from  my  own  vassals?  {Crushes  parchment 


MAGNA   CARTA  35 

roll.)  Out  of  my  sight,  ye  traitors!  (To  Marshal.) 
You  and  your  fellow  barons  shall  rue  this.  {To 
Langton.)  Nay,  I  care  not  who  you  be,  archbishop, 
cardinal — I  here  defy  you  !  Away,  and  tell  the  barons 
I  will  punish  them  for  this. 

Marshal  [moves  left).   Alas. 

Langton.  My  lord,  you  move  me  to  much  sorrow 
by  your  words,  which  we  must  faithfully  report  unto 
the  barons  assembled  now  at  Brackley. 

John.   Say  what  ye  will — I  care  not ! 

Langton.  I  pray  some  future  day  you  may  be 
moved  to  give  us  better  hearing. 

[Langton  and  Marshal  go  out  left. 

John.  Nay,  never  !  Sooth-tongued  priest !  You,  one 
and  all,  shall  smart  for  this.  (Drinks.)  To  their  destruc- 
tion do  I  drink.  (To  Falkes.)  Pledge  me,  sirrah ! 
(Falkes  drinks.)  Have  any  messengers  returned  whom 
I  sent  forth  to  bring  us  tidings  of  our  enemies  ?  Go 
and  look  forth.  [Falkes  goes  left  and  looks  out. 

Falkes.  One  cometh  even  now,  my  lord.  He  rides 
in  haste. 

John.    Who  is't  ? 

Falkes.   Gerald  de  Athies  ;  he  has  returned,  my  lord. 

John  {paces  up  and  down).  Will  he  bring  evil  news  ? 
Naught  but  black  tidings —  The  stars  are  cursed  that 
rule  this  day  ! 

Falkes  (goes  left).    He  comes,  my  lord. 

Enter,  left,  Gerald. 

John.    What  news  ?     What  news  of  the  rebels  ? 
Gerald.    Then   slay   me   not    if    I    do    speak   bad 
tidings.     (Kneels.)     Spare  me  ! 

John  (strides  up  ;  seizes  him  by  neck).  Play  me  no 
tricks.  Speak  out  thy  news,  or  I  will  shake  it  from 
thy  throat.     (Lets  go.) 


36  MAGNA   CARTA 

Gerald  (gasps).  Tis  so  ;  the  barons  are  encamped 
at  Brackley  ;  gathered  in  force  for  battle 

John.    What  ? 

Gerald  (rises  trembling).  Scarce  any  do  remain 
upon  your  side.  'Tis  said  they  have  2000  knights, 
foot  and  horse  soldiers,  archers,  cross-bowmen,  all 
fully  armed  and  bound  by  oath. 

John.    Against  me  ? 

Gerald.  They  are — if  you  refuse — so  resolved  ;  in 
battle  to  the  uttermost. 

John.  I  can  withstand  them  still ;  crush  them  as  I 
have  done  before. 

Gerald.  Nay,  alack,  your  castles  will  all  be  taken 
now.  Scarce  seven  knights  are  left  to  you.  'Tis  said 
the  men  of  London  mean  to  ope  their  gates  unto 
your  enemies. 

John.  I'll  get  more  soldiers  from  across  the  sea  ; 
the  Pope  shall  ban  them 

Falkes.  Rome  is  far  off.  It  would  be  long  ere  you 
could  get  more  men  hired  from  abroad  to  fight  your 
battles.  [Falkes  and  Gerald  draw  together,  right. 

John  (flings  himself  on  couch).  What,  have  they  all 
deserted  me  ?  Am  I  betrayed,  defied,  the  mock  of 
priests,  of  every  varlet  in  the  barons'  camp  ?  Oh, 
how  I  hate  you  all  !  Would  I  could  bend  you  as  I  do 
these  rushes.  (Picks  up,  breaks  and  bites  rushes  and 
straws.)  Grind  all  to  nothing  as  I  do  these  straws  ! 
(Flings  them  away.)  Some  time  I  will  outwit  them. 
Be  it  so.  If  they  have  victory  to-day,  to-morrow  I  ! 
Falkes  de  Breaute,  ride  in  haste  and  bring  back  the 
archbishop  and  the  earl.  Tell  them  that  I  will  hear 
their  prayers,  grant  their  charter. 

Falkes  (amazed).    Is't  so  ? 

John.  Yea,  it's  so.  Gape  not  in  amazement.  Go, 
tell  them  that  we  will  be  gracious  now  ;  we  will  appoint 


King  John. 
From  his  tomb  at  Worcester. 


38  MAGNA   CARTA 

a  day,  a  place  for  meeting — somewhere  beyond  our 
castle  on  the  Thames — to  hear  them. 

Falkes.    My  lord  ? 

John.  Be  gone  and  give  my  message  !  I  will  grant 
their  charter  !     [Laughs.)  [Falkes  goes  out  left. 

I'll  say  I  do  it  for  the  sake  of  peace,  the  exaltation 
and  the  honour  of  the  realm.  (Laughs.)  And  do 
they  think  I'll  keep  the  charter  ?  Let  them  dream  ! 
(To  Gerald.)  Go  after  him  and  see  my  message  is 
delivered  instantly.  [Gerald  goes  out  left. 

One  day,  they  will  rue  it.  (Rises.)  I  will  scourge 
the  land  for  this.  Is  it  in  springtime,  then  I'll  take 
the  seed  ;  cut  down  the  hedges  so  that  forest  beasts 
devour  their  lambs  and  patient  husbandry.  In  harvest, 
I  will  burn  the  standing  corn  ;  the  whole  land  shall 
hunger  till  my  wrath  is  spent.  [Goes  out  left. 

SCENE    IV 

Monday,  June  15,  1215.     Runny  mede. 

A  throne  placed  centre  ;  a  table  in  front of it ; 
a  low  bench  in  front  of  table. 

Enter,  left,  two  Monks  and  Canon  ;  they  carry  parch- 
ment, ink-horns,  pens ;  one  has  a  taper ;  then  come 
Robert  Fitz-Walter,  with  banner  of  London, 
Henry  de  Bohun,  Roger  Bigod,  Saer  de 
Quincy,  Giles  de  Braose,  Eustace  de  Vescy, 
Robert  de  Ros,  two  Londoners. 

Fitz-  Walter  (stands  centre).  This  meadow — Runny- 
mede — beside  the  Thames,  is  named  our  meeting- 
place,  where  we  now  attend  the  coming  of  the  King 
and  the  archbishop  and  the  Earl  of  Pembroke.  Here 
we  set  up  our  standard.  (Ttf  Messenger.)  Read  forth 
the  names  of  the  chief  barons  who  are  here  or  coming 
to  this  place. 


MAGNA   CARTA  39 

Messenger  {reads  from  scroll).  Robert  Fitz- Walter, 
Castellan  of  London,  Chief  Banneret  of  the  City, 
Baron  of  Dunmow  and  Marshal  of  the  Barons'  Army? 

Fit 2 -Walter.    Here  am  I. 

Messenger.  Henry  de  Bohun,  Earl  of  Hereford, 
and  Constable  of  England,  stand  you  here  ? 

De  Bohun.   Yea  ;  with  all  my  men. 

Messenger.   Roger  Bigod,  the  Earl  of  Norfolk  ? 

Bigod.    Ready  ;  prepared  ! 

Messenger.  Speak,  Saer  de  Quincy,  Earl  of  Win- 
chester. 

De  Quincy.    I  and  my  following,  fully  armed. 

Messenger.  Eustace  de  Vescy,  Baron  of  Northum- 
berland, guardian  of  Durham  ? 

De  Vescy.  Ready  to  fight,  in  sooth,  as  is  De  Ros 
and  many  another  northerner. 

De  Ros.   Aye,  and  all  my  men  from  Holderness. 

Fitz-Walter.  Let  each  man  grasp  his  sword. 
We  are  prepared.     We  stand  together. 

All.   Aye,  we  stand  together. 

Enter,  left,  a  Messenger. 

De  Vescy.  See  you,  a  messenger  comes  from  the 
King. 

Messenger.  My  lords,  at  length,  the  King  ap- 
proaches. Long  hath  been  the  debate  touching  peace 
with  you  and  granting  of  these  liberties. 

Fitz-Walter.   The  King  will  meet  us  now  ? 

Messenger.  The  archbishop  hath  prevailed  on 
him  with  strong  entreaty. 

De  Vescy  {aside).  Methinks  our  line  of  battle,  seen 
upon  the  banks  of  Thames,  gives  force  to  his  entreaties. 

Messenger.  Now  do  the  trumpets  sound  here  and 
along  the  river.     The  King  is  coming. 

Fitz-Walter.   Give  answer  loud.     Hold  high  our 


4o  MAGNA   CARTA 

banner !      The   archbishop   who  made   the   Charter, 
shall  present  it  to  the  King. 

Enter,  left,  King  John,  Stephen  Langton  with  the 

Great  Charter,  William   Marshal,   Falkes   de 

Breaute,  Gerald  de  Athies.    John  seats  himself 

on  throne.     Barons,  headed  by  Fitz-Walter,  stand 

right ;  on  left  stand  LANGTON,  next  the  King,  the 

Monks  and  Canon  ;    Marshal  on  extreme  left. 

The  King's  Messenger,   Falkes  and  Gerald 

stand  behind  the  throne. 

Langton.    My  lord,  the  barons,  gathered  from  all 

parts  of  your  kingdom,  and  assembled  here  at  Runny- 

mede — the  place  which  you  appointed — greet  you  true 

and  loyally. 

De  Vescy  {aside).   True  and  loyal  if  we  have  our 

liberties — if  not 

Langton.  They  here  present  this  Charter,  wherein 
are  found  good  laws  and  customs  for  the  country, 
such  as  were  upheld  of  old. 

[Lays  Charter  on  table  before  John. 
John.    I  know  their  asking. 

Langton  {to  Barons).     All  that  is  contained  herein 

hath  been  examined  closely  with  the  King.     We  have 

discussed  and  measured  each  matter  in  the  Charter. 

Barons.  The  Charter,  aye,  the  Charter;  give  us  that! 

John  (aside).    Rebels  and  dogs  !     (Aloud.)  I  grant 

it.     I  am  minded  to  be  clement.     For  peace  and  for 

protection    of   my   kingdom,   and    by   the    advice    of 

certain  of  the  realm — as  Archbishop  Stephen  Langton, 

William  Marshal,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  many  whose 

names  are  written  there — I  grant  the  Charter. 

Langton  (hands  Charter  to  first  Monk).    Read. 

Monk  (reads).    "John,  by  the  Grace  of  God,  King 

of  England,  Lord  of  Ireland,  Duke  of  Normandy  and 

Aquitaine,  Count  of  Anjou,  to  the  archbishops,  bishops, 

abbots,    earls,    barons,   justiciars,    foresters,    sheriffs, 


Banner  of  the  City  of  London. 

Figure  of  S.  Paul  in  gold  on  a  red  field. 
Feet,  hands,  &c.,  white. 


42  MAGNA   CARTA 

reeves,  servants  and  all  bailiffs  and  his  faithful  people, 
greeting."  [MONK  hands  Charter  to  LANGTON. 

Langton.  Here  are  set  forth  some  sixty-three  and 
separate  matters,  beginning  with  the  English  Church, 
which  shall  be  free  to  hold  its  rights  and  liberties 
uninjured. 

Giles  [aside).  Then  not  in  vain  our  prayers  have  been. 

Langton.  All  the  good  laws  and  customs  are  to 
be  maintained.  The  heir  shall  take  his  heritage  with 
no  extortion.  The  widow  shall  not  be  oppressed  nor 
orphans  robbed  by  those  who  guard  their  lands. 

Fitz-Walter.  'Tis  well. 

Langton.  The  Common  Pleas  shall  not  follow  the 
King's  Court,  but  be  held  in  one  place  whither  all 
men  may  resort  conveniently. 

General  Murmur  of  approval.   Aye,  aye. 

Langton.   The  citizens  of  London 

Londoners  {aside).  Ah,  what  for  London  ? 

Langton.  The  citizens  of  London  shall  have  their 
ancient  liberties  and  free  customs  as  well  by  land 
as  water,  and  this  is  for  all  other  cities,  boroughs, 
villages  and  ports. 

First  to  Second  Londoner  [aside).  Good  tidings 
these. 

Langton.  Scutage  and  aid  shall  be  just,  and  only 
according  to  the  tenant's  holding  from  the  King. 

De  Vescy  (aside).  Taxes  and  grievous  payments  in 
lieu  of  battle-service  will  not  be  forced. 

Langton.  The  barons  shall  also  deal  justly  with 
their  men.  Now,  hearken  well.  Save  in  certain  in- 
stances, as  for  the  King's  ransom  if  he  is  taken  prisoner, 
for  the  making  of  his  eldest  son  a  knight,  and  for  his 
eldest  daughter's  dower,  no  tax  or  aid  shall  ever  be 
imposed,  but  by  the  common  council  of  the  kingdom. 

De  Quincy.    May  that  be  so  for  ever  ! 

Langton.    To  this  common  council  of  the  realm 


MAGNA   CARTA  43 

prelates  and  greater  barons  shall  be  summoned  by  the 
King;  and  all  tenants-in-chief,  by  his  sheriffs  and  bailiffs. 
General  Murmur.   Aye,  aye. 

Langton.  For  fines,  no  man  shall  lose  his  means 
of  livelihood  ;  the  merchant  his  merchandise  nor  the 
poor  man  his  waggon.  Sheriffs  and  bailiffs  shall  not 
seize  a  freeman's  horses,  waggon  or  wood  for  the 
King's  use  without  payment  or  consent.  Which  law, 
by  heaven's  grace,  shall  somewhat  protect  the  poor. 
Hostages  shall  be  now  returned  unscathed.  All  foreign 
soldiers — the  names  of  many  are  writ  here — who  came 
to  make  war  upon  the  land,  are  to  be  driven  hence. 

Gerald  (aside).    Our  day  is  done. 

John.  What  further  ?  (Aside.)  I  will  find  other 
soldiers. 

Langton.  Full  many  other  matters  follow,  as 
touching  rents  and  forests,  measures,  weirs,  trials,  and 
witnesses.  And,  mark  ye  well — no  freeman  shall  be 
taken, imprisoned, dispossessed  or  banished, save  by  the 
legal  judgment  of  his  peers  or  by  the  law  of  the  land. 

General  Murmur.    So  be  it  ever. 

Langton.  Moreover,  the  King  hath  said,  "  To  no 
man  will  we  sell,  to  no  man  will  we  deny,  to  none 
will  we  delay,  right  and  justice."  (To  Barons.) 
Twenty-five  of  the  great  barons  of  the  land  shall  be 
chosen  by  you  to  see  this  Charter  is  observed. 

Fitz-Walter.    We  will  appoint  them. 

Langton.  These  liberties  are  ordained  both  for 
yourselves  and  for  your  heirs  for  ever.  Nor  King  nor 
people  shall  disregard  the  law.  So  the  Great  Charter 
closes  (hands  it  to  Monk)  in  the  King's  words. 

First  Monk  (reads).  "  Sworn,  moreover,  as  well  on 
our  part  as  on  the  part  of  the  barons,  that  these 
things  above  should  be  observed  in  good  faith  and 
without  any  evil  intent.  (John  smiles  scornfully) 
Witness  the  above  named  and  many  others." 


44  MAGNA   CARTA 

Langton  {turns  to  John).  Will  you  be  pleased,  my 
lord,  to  lay  your  hand  upon  the  Charter  ? 

[JOHN  puts  his  hand  on  Charter  from  which 
MONK  reads. 
Monk.    "Given  by  our  hand  in  the  meadow  which 
is  called  Runnymede,  between  Windsor  and  Staines,  on 
the  15th  day  of  June,  in  the  17th  year  of  our  reign." 

Langton  {takes  Charter  and  places  it  on  table  before 
John).  My  lord,  will  you  now  set  your  great  seal 
on  the  Charter  ? 

John.  Here  is  the  seal.  {Aside.)  Would  I  had 
lightning  in  mine  eyes  to  strike  you  all  ! 

First  Monk.  The  brown  wax  is  on  the  strip  of 
parchment,  ready  for  the  good  round  seal. 

Second  Monk.  The  light.  (  Warms  wax  with  taper.) 
The  wax  is  soft. 

[JOHN  impresses  seal;  all  zvatch  in  breathless 
silence. 
Langton  {looks  up).   The  seal  is  set.     'Tis  done. 
John.    There,  I  have  put  my  impress  on  the  wax. 
{Aside.)    I'll    cut    my  image    deeper  in  your   hearts. 
{Springs  up.)   There,  take  it ;   take  your  Charter,  ye 
barons !     {Aside.)    And    may    it    perish    with    you ! 
{Aloud.)    I  go.    Follow  me  not.    (Aside.)    I  fain  would 
wipe  you  from  my  sight. 

[Sweeps  out,  followed  by  Falkes,  Gerald, 
Messenger  ;  all  bow  low  as  the  King 
goes  out,  left. 
Langton  {to  Monks).   Are  the  scribes  ready  here 
to  make  copies  of  the  Charter  ? 

First  Monk.  Ready,  my  lord.  I  make  a  copy  now 
for  Salisbury  Cathedral. 

[Sits  right  end  of  bench  and  writes  on  his 
parchment. 
Second  Monk.    And  I  for  Lincoln. 

[Sits  centre  of  bench  and  zv 'rites. 


Stephen  Langton. 
From  his  Seal,  British  Museum. 


46  MAGNA   CARTA 

Canon.    I  haste  to  copy  it  for  St.  Paul's. 

[Sits  left  of  bench  and  writes. 
Langton.    Let  copies  be  quickly  sent  to  Canterbury 
and  to  each  cathedral  in  the  land. 

Giles.  Aye,  and  they  shall  be  guarded  well. 
Langton  [stands  centre  in  front  of  table,  &c,  all  the 
others  grouped  on  either  side ;  he  holds  Charter  in  his 
hands).  To-day  we  have  fought  a  fight ;  to-day  we 
have  sown  good  seed.  Not  for  us,  perchance,  the 
fullest  joy  of  harvest  or  of  the  victors  who  divide 
the  spoil.  The  whole  accomplishment  is  yet  far  off, 
though  men,  in  days  to  come,  may  remember  us 
sometimes ;  bless  us,  perhaps,  for  that  we  strove  to 
do.  We  trusted  God,  and  we  shall  therefore  rest  in 
hope.  This  Charter  which  I  hold  within  my  hands — 
parchment  and  ink  and  names  of  those  who  will  be 
dust  in  a  few  years — this  Charter  will  not  perish  ; 
it  will  stand,  type  of  a  vow  between  the  King  and 
people.  Noble  kings  will  rise  hereafter  in  this  land, 
worthy  to  be  the  nation's  leaders.  Barons  of  the 
kingdom,  people  of  England,  will  ye  do  your  part 
and  hold  the  laws  of  freedom  faithfully  ;  for  your- 
selves ;  in  memory  of  those  departed  hence,  and  for 
the  sake  of  those  who  come  hereafter  ? 

Fitz-Walter  (kneels,  with  standard).   Aye,  we  will. 
General  Murmur.   Aye,  we  will. 
Langton.   Will  you  uphold  the  Charter  now  ;  come 
life,  come  death  ?     If  so,  let  each  man  put  his  hand 
upon  his  sword  and  cry  "Amen ;  so  be  it." 

All  (Barons  put  hands  on  swords;    Monks,  &c, 
raise  their  hands).  "  Amen  ;   so  be  it." 

[LANGTON,  carrying  Charter,  moves  out  left,  fol- 
lowed by  Giles  de  Braose,  Monks,  Canon, 
Fitz-Walter  with  the  banner,  Marshal,  De 
Bohun,  Bigod,  De  Vescy,  De  Ros,  Saer 
de  Quincy,  A  solemn  and  triumphal  march 
is  played  as  they  leave  the  stage. 


EDWARD    III 

IN    ONE    ACT 


CHARACTERS   REPRESENTED 

King  Edward  the  Third. 

Edward,  the  Black  Prince,  his  son. 

Sir  Walter  de  Manny,  | 

Sir  Thomas  Holland,    /  Knights. 

Sir  John  Chandos.         J 

Roger,  a  Londoner. 

Peter  of  Ongar,  an  English  archer,  Roger's  nephew. 

>  of  the  London  Weavers'  Guild. 
Stephen, J 

Adam,  a  dyer. 

John,  a  fuller. 

A  Cook. 

A  Messenger. 

Gobin  Agace,  of  Ponthieu. 

A  French  Soldier. 

Queen  Philippa,  wife  to  Edward  III. 

Princess  Isabella 


,  daughters  to  Edward  III.  and  Philippa. 
Princess  Joan, 

Lady-in-Waiting. 

Katherine,  daughter  to  Roger. 

Margery,      )    T       , 

'       >    Londoners. 

Petronilla,  ) 

Almost  all  the  shorter  parts  can  be  doubled  and  acted  by  the 

same  boy  or  girl. 

ACT    I 

Scene  I. — August  1346.  France.  Oisement,  near  the  banks 
of  the  Somme. 

Scene  II. — The  next  day.  On  the  opposite  banks  of  the 
river. 

Scene  III. — August  26th.    On  the  Windmill  hill  by  Crecy. 

Scene    IV.— Autumn    of    1347.       After    siege   of    Calais. 

London.     The  hall  in  a  rich  merchant's  house. 

48 


Edward,  the  Black  Prince. 
From  his  tomb  at  Canterbury. 


EDWARD     III 


ACT   I 

SCENE    I 
August  1346. 

Near  the  banks  of  the  Somme  ;  at  Oisement. 

Etiter,  left,  King  Edward,  with  the  Black  Prince 
and  Sir  John  Chandos. 

King.  Philip  of  Valois — I  will  not  call  him  King 
of  France,  for  I  am  King  ;  Edward  Plantagenet  is 
King  of  France — Philip  of  Valois  with  a  mighty  host 
pursues  us.     He  is  close  upon  our  heels. 

Chandos  (points  left).  And  in  front  of  us  lies  the 
full  and  salt  flood  of  the  Somme. 

King.  There's  naught  but  death  for  my  brave  little 
army  if  we  cannot  cross  the  river  before  to-morrow 
morn. 

Enter,  left,  Sir  Thomas  Holland,  followed  by 
Peter  of  Ongar. 

Sir  Thomas  Holland,  are  all  the  bridges  across  the 
Somme  destroyed  ? 

Holland.  My  lord,  your  good  marshals,  the  Earl 
of  Warwick  and  Geoffrey  of  Harcourt,  have  sent  forth 
men  ;  we've  ridden  up  and  down  the  land,  but  the 
French  have  the  bridges  well  defended,  and  all  those 
which  they  cannot  hold  are  burned  or  laid  in  ruins 

for  our  welcome. 

5° 


EDWARD    III  51 

Chandos.   Alas,  no  way  of  escape  is  left  for  us. 

King.  We  will  not  die  like  rats  caught  in  a  trap. 
Are  there  none,  among  the  prisoners  that  we  took, 
who  know  this  country  well ;  who  could  tell  us  of  a 
hidden  ford  or  secret  shallow  of  the  river  ? 

[Peter  of  Ongar  approaches  King. 

Peter  {kneels).  My  King,  I'm  but  a  poor  bowman, 
yet  I  have  a  word  of  counsel  if  I  dare  speak 

King.    Speak  on,  brave  archer.     Have  no  fear. 

Peter  {rises').  Then,  noble  King,  there  is  a  prisoner 
here  ;  one  that  we  took  upon  the  road  by  Oisement. 
He  is  of  Ponthieu ;  knows  all  this  land,  men  say. 

King.    Land  !     Tis  of  the  water  we  lack  counsel. 

Peter.  Verily,  and  this  man  dwells  beside  the  river  ; 
knows  each  turning  of  the  Somme,  so  please  your 
Grace. 

King.  Then  he  perchance  can  Kelp  us.  Go  quickly, 
bring  the  man  and  we  will  question  him. 

Peter  {bows).  I  will,  my  King.  {Aside.)  A  simple 
bowman  hath  a  word  of  counsel  even  for  a  king. 

[  Goes  out  left. 

King  {to  Holland).  How  far  hath  Philip  gained 
upon  us  ?     See  you  our  messengers  returning  ? 

Holland  {moves  right;  looks  out).  I  see  no  sign 
of  our  coureurs.  But  the  French  host  cannot  be  far 
behind  us  now.  We  did  well  {walks  back  to  King), 
my  liege,  to  leave  Airaines  in  haste  and  not  to  tarry 
longer  there. 

King.  The  French  would  laugh  to  see  the  haste 
we  made.  They'd  find  our  camp  just  as  we.  left  it ; 
smouldering  fires  and  meat  upon  the  spit. 

Black  Prince.  They'd  laugh  and  pledge  us  English 
in  our  undrunk  wine.  Oh,  my  father,  could  we  but 
meet  them  face  to  face  and  fight ! 


52  EDWARD    III 

King.  Which  soon  we  shall,  but  not,  I  trust,  until 
we  stand  upon  the  other  side  of  the  dark,  rushing 
Somme.  We're  nearer  to  our  Flemish  allies  then,  and 
if  need  be,  we  have  retreat  to  Flanders  open.  Here 
comes  our  archer  with  his  prisoner. 

Re-enter,  left,  Peter  of  Ongar,  with  Gobin  Agace. 

Peter  {boivs).    Behold  the  prisoner,  my  King. 

King  {to  Gobin).   Thou  art  of  Ponthieu  ? 

Gobin.   Yea,  my  lord. 

King.  Which,  with  many  another  fair,  broad  land 
in  France,  is  mine  by  right.  Ponthieu — wealth  of 
my  mother  ;  heritage  of  Margaret,  wife  to  Edward 
my  grandfather.     What  is  thy  name  ? 

Gobin.  Gobin  ;  Gobin  Agace.  A  grace  some  call 
me,  but  there's  little  enough  o'  grace  to  tell  about  me. 

Peter  {aside).    I'll  warrant  that. 

King.    Thou  wert  in  arms  against  me  ? 

Gobin.  Aye,  but  I  reck  not  which  I  serve  ;  king  of 
France  or  England.  'Tis  alike  to  me  and  to  the  men 
who  fought  beside  me  here.  We  found  ill  days  under 
the  French  King.  The  English  King  maybe  will  use 
us  better. 

King.    Dost  know  this  river  and  the  river  banks  ? 

Gobin.  Aye,  indeed  I  know  it  well  ;  {aside)  well  as 
I  knew  the  farm,  the  plots  of  corn  which  have  been 
burned. 

King.  Then  knowest  thou  of  any  ford  across  the 
river  ?  Gobin  Agace,  I  will  not  use  thee  harshly.  If 
thou  canst  show  a  way  by  which  I  and  my  army  can 
pass  o'er  in  safety,  I  will  reward  thee  ;  make  thee  free 
and  quit  of  ransom  with  twenty  of  thy  company. 

Gobin.    My  lord ? 

King.   Verily.     Speak  but  the  truth  to  me. 


EDWARD    III  53 

Gobin.  Sire,  take  my  head  if  what  I  say  be  not  the 
truth.  I  will  surely  lead  you  to  a  place  where  you 
and  all  your  host  may  pass  over  without  danger  to 
man  or  beast. 

King.   Where  ? 

Gobin.  North-east  {points  left)  from  here,  you 
come  to  the  river  below  Abbeville.  Away  near  the 
Port  village,  the  Somme  doth  widen  on  a  sudden, 
with  low  banks  and  willows  overhanging.  There  is 
the  ford.  A  stranger  ne'er  could  find  it.  There, 
twice  between  the  night  and  morn,  twelve  men  can 
cross  abreast  and  the  water  will  not  reach  above  their 
knees.  But  when  the  tide  rises,  then  the  river  waxes 
so  great,  no  man  can  cross  at  all.  The  ford  is  good  ; 
the  ground  beneath  the  water,  all  of  hard  white  stones, 
wherefore  men  call  it  the  Blanche-tache. 

King.  Blanche-tache  ;  and  there  my  men  and 
baggage  can  pass  over  ? 

Gobin.  Truly  on  horseback  and  afoot.  But,  my 
lords,  ye  must  be  ready  to  depart  from  here  betimes. 
For  the  ebb-tide,  ye  must  be  at  Blanche-tache  by 
sunrise. 

King.  Now,  if  thy  tale  be  true,  'tis  good.  But  the 
French  have  also  remembered  this  ford,  methinks. 

Holland.    Yea,  surely.     Agace,  if  ye  betray  us 

King.    Woe  unto  thee  indeed  ! 

Gobin  {creeps  towards  the  King).  My  lord,  'tis  true 
the  French  King  knows  of  your  moving,  by  his  spies, 
and  he  has  bidden  a  great  baron  of  Normandy,  Sir 
Godemar  du  Fay,  defend  the  passage  of  Blanche- 
tache  upon  the  further  shore. 

King.  Ha  !  ha  !  Then  Godemar  awaits  us  on  the 
further  shore. 

Holland  and  Chandos.  A  trap,  a  snare  ! 


54 


EDWARD    III 


Gobin.  Yet  methinks  you  could  force  the  passage 
and  drive  them  from  the  banks. 

King.  We  will.  I  have  many  a  good  soldier  who 
would  as  lief  fight  in  the  water  as  on  dry  land. 
We'll  force  our  way,  my  men,  right  through  the 
rushing  stream  and  spite  of  twenty  Godemars. 

Peter.  I  care  not  how  wet  I  be,  so  as  I  keep  my 
good  bow  dry. 

King.    We  may  not  tarry  longer.     Philip  is  gaining 


Arms  of  Sir  Walter  Manny.  Royal  Arms  of  England.    Edward  III. 

Or,  3  chevrons  sa.  France  and  England  quarterly. 

on  us,  hour  by  hour.  (To  Holland.)  Send  word  to 
our  Marshals.  Let  all  be  in  readiness  to  march. 
There's  little  time  for  sleep  to-night.  At  midnight 
shall  the  trumpet  sound  ;  all  must  arise,  saddle  the 
horses,  and  go  forth.  The  harvest  moon  will  light  us 
to  the  river  bank. 

Gobin.    I  will  be  there  to  guide  you. 

[King  goes  out  left,  followed  by  Black 
Prince,  Sir  Thomas  Holland,  Sir 
John  Chandos,  Peter  of  Ongar 
and  Gobin  Agace. 


EDWARD    III  55 

SCENE    II 

The  next  day. 

On  the  opposite  banks  of  the  Somme. 

Enter,  left,  Peter  OF  Ongar,  clapping  his  hands, 
followed  by  GOBIN  Agace,  sadly. 

Peter  (ivaves  his  bow).  Hey!  hey!  Safe  o'er  the 
flood  !     Safe  landed  !     Agace,  ye  led  us  well. 

Gobin.  Aye,  aye.  But  see  {looks  at  Peter's  cloak), 
this  cloak  is  all  a-dripping  from  the  Somme.  You 
fell,  methinks,  half-way  across  when  ye  beheld  the 
Frenchmen's  cross-bows  bent  upon  you. 

Peter  {scornfully).    Frenchmen's  cross-bows  ! 

Gobin.  Ye  stumbled  in  the  flood,  and  from  the 
cloak  I'll  wring  the  drops  which  tell  the  tale. 

[  Wrings  out  end  of  cloak. 

Peter  {pulls  off  cloak ;  tosses  it  up  in  air).  A  cloak 
wet  with  French  rivers,  cross-bows  of  Frenchmen's 
hirelings,  what  are  they  to  me  ?  {Starts.)  My  bow  ? 
{Examines  bozv.)  Ah,  'tis  unharmed ;  my  good  white  bow 
made  of  a  single  stave  of  Essex  yew.  My  long-bow ; 
that's  my  life ;  Peter  of  Ongar's  glory  and  his  life  ! 

Enter,  left,  Black  Prince  and  Sir  Thomas  Holland. 

Holland.  So  we  have  won  the  passage,  though  the 
landing  was  a  bitter  fight  and  they  fought  well  to 
keep  us  back. 

Black  Prince  {points  left).  But  Godemar  hath  fled. 
When  he  saw  he  could  no  longer  hold  the  landing- 
place 

Enter,  left,  King. 

My  father,  we  have  done  with  Godemar  ! 


56  EDWARD   III 

King.  Aye,  he  is  gone.  But  look  ye  now  behind  ; 
on  the  far  bank  of  the  river. 

[Leads  Prince  towards  left,  and  is  followed 
by  Sir  T.  Holland,  Peter  andQov>m\ 
they  all  look  intently. 
Holland.    Aye,    indeed  ;    on    the   far  shore  is   the 
French  host. 

Black  Prince.  They  were  not  far  behind,  in  sooth  ! 

Enter,  left,  Sir  John  Chandos. 

Chandos.  The  French  are  there  already.  Oh,  near 
was  our  escape  !  They  reached  the  flood  e'en  while 
our  last  company  were  crossing.  If  we  have  any 
laggards,  they  are  ta'en,  I  fear.  But  see,  my  lord,  the 
tide  is  rising  fast. 

King.  Blanche-tache  serves  not  our  enemies. 
{Points.)  Look  how  the  waters  rise  !  Each  moment 
they  come  mounting  up.  Ha !  ha !  {Calls  out.) 
Philip  of  Valois,  lo,  I  mock  at  you  ! 

Prince,  Holland,  Chandos  and  Peter.  We  mock 
at  you. 

King  {laughs).  His  river  is  rebellious.  It  will  teach 
him  patience  for  some  good  twelve  hours. 

Holland.  While  we  move  on  and  choose  our 
battle-ground. 

King  {moves  centre,  followed  by  others).  Gobin  Agace, 
thou  hast  led  us  well,  and  I  will  well  requite  thy  service. 

Gobin.  I  said  ye  should  pass  over  safely.  Ah,  I 
know  the  deeps  and  shallows  of  the  Somme  if  I  know 
naught  else  in  this  dark  world. 

King  {to  Agace).  I  make  thee  free,  with  twenty  of 
thy  company.     {To  Holland).  See  you  to  this. 

Holland.  Aye,  my  liege. 

King  {to  Agace).    Moreover,  for  thy  ready  rede,  I 


EDWARD    III  57 

give  thee  a  good  horse  and  these  golden  nobles  in 
thy  hand.  [Gives  him  bag  of  money. 

Peter  {aside).   'Tis  wise,  methinks,  to  be  a  traitor  ! 

Gobin  {kneels).  Thanks,  gracious  King.  Your  gifts 
are  good.  A  horse — twenty  nobles  here  in  my  hand. 
I  think  I  will  be  your  servant  always,  mighty  King. 
{Rises.)  The  King  of  France  hath  never  given  me 
aught.  My  house  was  ruined  three  years  ago  come 
the  Toussaints.  I'd  as  lief  follow  you  across  the 
seas  as  now  bide  here. 

King.   Do  as  thou  wilt. 

Peter.  We'll  teach  you  archery  and  how  to  use  an 
English  bow.  Come  with  me,  Agace,  Agace — the 
name  is  never  glib  upon  my  honest  Essex  tongue  ! 

King.  To-morrow  in  pitched  battle  we  shall  meet 
our  foe. 

All  {but  Gobin).   Aye,  aye  ! 

King.  Our  field  of  battle  is  well  chosen.  Where 
the  road  from  Abbeville  passes  by  Crecy  village.  'Tis 
a  good  and  safe  position.  Below  us  lies  a  hollow, 
Vallee  aux  Clercs  'tis  called.  To  the  north,  beyond 
the  river  Maie,  the  road  to  Flanders.  Westward  and 
south  are  woods  and  thickets  for  defence. 

Black  Prince.  Oh,  let  me  take  my  sword  and  win 
my  spurs  to-morrow  ! 

King.  Ye  shall  !  If  we  win  Crecy,  then  the  next 
is  Calais.  Brave  knights,  true  to  your  King  as  were 
the  Knights  of  Table  Round  to  Arthur.  Fight  with 
me  still,  and  I  will  give  you  part  in  such  a  day  as 
shall  not  be  forgotten.  Come  hence  and  set  our  arms 
in  readiness.  To-morrow's  August  sun  will  shine 
upon  the  battle-field  of  Crecy  ! 

[King  goes  out  left,  followed  by  Black  Prince, 
Sir  T.  Holland,  Sir  J.  Chandos,  Peter 
and  Agace. 


58  EDWARD    III 


SCENE    III 

Saturday,  August  26. 

The  Windmill  hill  by  Crecy.     A  log  or  a 
bench  centre. 

Enter,  left,  Peter  of  Ongar,  with  food  and  a 
cup  in  his  hands.     Sits  centre  and  eats. 

Peter.  Well,  here  has  a  fine  Saturday  dawned. 
The  King  commanded  that  we  should  sleep  well  last 
night,  each  man  in  his  cloak.  Some  will  sleep  yet 
sounder  perchance  to-morrow  !  "  Let  the  soldiers 
have  good  food,"  says  our  King.  I  warrant  Philip 
had  no  such  care  for  his  men  !  The  French  were 
marching  hungry,  while  we  were  dreaming  or  filling 
ourselves  with  victuals  which  make  courage  {eats), 
give  straightness  to  the  eye.  (Draws  bow.)  My 
arrows.  (Counts  arrows  in  quiver.)  All  well-wrought 
shafts  made  by  the  worthy  Matthew,  our  good 
arrowsmith— heaven  rest  him— he  sleeps  by  the  yew 
trees  which  furnished  much  for  archery. 

Enter,  left,  Gobin  Agace. 

Here  comes  our  path-finder  through  the  waters. 
Oh,  but  he  should  hold  his  head  high,  for  he  has  a 
horse  of  his  own,  and  twenty  nobles  in  his  purse. 
(To  Agace.)  Would  I  had  your  money  !  Threepence 
a  day  ;  that  is  the  payment  to  a  poor  drawer  of  long- 
bows. 

Gobin.  My  twenty  nobles  cannot  buy  me  what 
is  clean  gone.  Methinks,  you,  with  your  threepence, 
Peter,  and  your  home  across  the  seas,  are  still  the 
richer  man. 


EDWARD    III  59 

Peter.  Maybe.  But  mourn  not.  In  these  days  of 
battle-fields,  'tis  lightly  come  and  lightly  gone.  Come, 
sit  you  down  and  eat. 

Gobin.    Nay.     They  brought  me  food  in  plenty. 

Peter.  Archery,  archery,  that  is  the  cure  for  every 
sick  heart,  whether  it  be  behind  the  bow  or  in  the 
face  of  the  flying  arrow.  {Springs  up.)  Come,  I  will 
show  you  how  to  use  the  bow.  {Leads  AGACE  forward ; 
takes  bow  in  his  hands.)  Fair  shooting  [takes  out  an 
arrow)  cometh  of  many  things,  as  standing  {plants 
feet  firmly) ;  nocking  {places  arrow)  ;  drawing  {draws) ; 
holding  {keeps  arrow  drawn)  and  loosing.  {Gives  bow 
and  arrow  to  AGACE.) 

Gobin.    Aye,  aye. 

Peter.  Now  drawing  is  the  best  part  of  archery. 
My  father  taught  me  how  to  draw,  how  to  lay  my 
body  in  my  bow  and  not  to  draw  with  strength  of 
arm  as  other  nations  do,  but  with  strength  of  body. 
See  you 

Enter,  left,  King,  with  Sir  T.  Holland,  who  carries 
King's  helmet,  Sir  J.  Chandos  carrying  his  shield. 
Peter  and  Agace  bow  low. 

King.  The  hour  of  battle  has  come.  Set  on  my 
helmet  and  my  crown.  I  vow  to  you  they  shall  not 
leave  my  living  brows  till  I  have  been  victorious. 
{Takes  helmet  and  puts  it  on). 

Chandos.    Here  is  your  shield,  sire.  {Hands  shield.) 

King.  Wrought  with  my  golden  leopards,  and  with 
lilies,  mark  you  well,  to  show  my  right.  "  Dieu  et 
mon  Droit "  in  France  I  will  maintain. 

Holland,  Chandos,  Prince  {draw  swords  on  either 
side  of  the  King;  Peter  waves  his  bow),  All  {but  Gobin). 
God  and  your  right  in  France  we  will  maintain  ! 


60  EDWARD    III 

King  (holds  out  his  hand).  I  thank  you  and  look  to 
you  all  for  aid  to-day.  Here,  from  the  Windmill  hill, 
I  command  the  field.     Hark  !  our  trumpets  sound  ! 

Holland  (listens).  The  French  reply !  Now  list 
again  ;  the  trumpets  blare. 

Enter,  left,  MESSENGER. 

King.    Is  all  prepared  ? 

Messenger.  Aye,  my  liege.  The  prince  clad  in  his 
armour,  chafes  for  battle. 

King.  He  shall  fight.  Look,  the  sun  shines  forth 
as  a  good  omen. 

Peter  (aside).  Aye,  and  'tis  in  the  foemen's  eyes, 
which  favours  us. 

King.  Now  let  our  trumpets  speak  again.  Bid 
all  our  archers  bend  their  bows  and  send  a  rain 
thicker  than  yonder  storm  that  passes  seaward. 
Hark,  the  French  shout ! 

Chandos  (listens).  "  Montjoie !  St.  Denis !"  they  cry. 

King  (listens).  Our  people  answer  them  with  shouts 
of  "  God  and  St.  George  for  England  !  "  (Lifts  sword.) 
Lift  high  our  standard !  Forward,  banners,  now ! 
God  and  St.  George  for  England,  charge  ! 

[King  goes  out  left,  followed  by  Holland, 
Chandos,  with  drawn  szvords,  MES- 
SENGER, Peter  and  Agace,  shouting, 
"  God  and  St.  George  for  England  !  " 

Re-enter  HOLLAND,  in  pursuit  of  a  French  knight. 

Holland.  Yield  you,  proud  Frenchman  !  My 
prisoner  !     Unhorsed  by  me  ! 

\Pursues  him  round  stage;  they  exchange 
blows  with  swords;  Frenchman  flies 
out  left,  pursued  by  Holland. 


EDWARD    III  61 

Re-enter  King  and  Chandos. 

Chandos.  The  French  fall  back  before  our  archers 
now.  See  (points),  my  lord,  they  turn  and  smite  their 
hireling  Genoese  who  do  retreat. 

King  (looks  left).  All  is  confusion  ;  flying  men  and 
horses.  (Lifts  sword.)  On !  On !  St.  George  for 
England  !  Charge  again  !  (Chandos  rushes  out  left ; 
King  is  suddenly  arrested  by  MESSENGER,  who  enters 
left  in  haste.)  See,  who  comes  ?  A  messenger  in 
haste. 

Messenger.  From  Sir  Thomas  Holland,  gracious 
King,  I  come. 

King.  How  fares  my  son  ?  Tell  me  ;  speak  swift 
thy  news  ! 

Messenger.  Those  who  fight  with  the  Prince 
beseech  you  to  send  succour.  More  men  for  help 
immediate.     The  French  do  rally  now. 

King.    Tell  me,  is  the  Prince  slain  ? 

Messenger.    Nay,  nay,  my  liege,  he  lives. 

King.    Then,  is  he  wounded  grievously  ? 

Messenger.  He  lives  unhurt.  But  the  Prince  is 
sore  beset ;  great  is  his  danger. 

King.  If  he  lives  yet  unwounded  I  will  not  send 
him  any  help.  Say  I  would  have  him  win  his  spurs 
at  Crecy.  I  desire  that,  if  it  be  God's  will,  the  honour 
of  this  day  shall  be  for  him  and  those  who  fight 
beside  him.  Go  tell  the  Prince  and  his  companions 
my  command. 

Messenger.  I  will,  my  liege.  Who  would  not  die 
but  to  have  part  in  such  a  day  !  [Goes  out  left. 

Enter,  left,  Sir  J.  Chandos,  wounded. 

King.  Here  cometh  Chandos.  How  goes  the 
battle  ?     You  are  wounded,  my  brave  knight  ? 


62  EDWARD    III 

Chandos.  I  am,  my  lord  ;  'tis  but  a  little  thing. 
A  moment's  grace  to  breathe.  {Lifts  helmet.)  Ah, 
gracious  King,  I'd  kneel  to  tell  you  the  good  news  ; 

only  a  faintness  from  my  wound 

[Sinks  on  ground ;  King  bends  over  him. 

King.    My  faithful  knight ! 

Chandos  {rises  slowly).  I  grow  strong  again  ; 
strong  with  the  news  I  bring.  The  French  are  flying 
now  before  our  arrows.  Our  bowmen  would  seem  a 
match  for  all  the  chivalry  of  France  ! 

King.    And  where  is  Philip  ? 

Enter,  left,  Sir  T.  Holland. 

Holland.  Philip  hath  left  the  field.  The  French 
are  flying  now  on  every  side. 

King.  The  victory  is  ours  !  Oh,  wondrous  field 
of  Crecy  ! 

Messenger  re-enters  left. 

How  fares  the  Prince  ? 

Messenger.  He  cometh  even  now  to  greet  your 
grace. 

Enter,  left,  Black  Prince,  followed  by  Peter 
and  Agace. 

Prince.  All  hail,  my  father !  {Kneels.)  I  hail 
you  King  of  France  and  England  ! 

King.  And  hail  to  you,  fair  son  ;  the  heir  of 
France  and  England  !  {Places  hands  on  his  shoulders.) 
Well  have  you  fought  to-day.  You  have  shown 
yourself  worthy  of  the  name  you  bear  ;  worthy,  one 
day,  to  hold  the  realm.  [Raises  Prince. 

Prince.  Thanks,  my  King.  But  {points  to  Holland) 
those  who  were  with  me  helped  to  win  the  day. 

King.    A  day  which  men  will  long  remember.     I 


EDWARD    III  63 

owe  you  thanks,  my  lords,  and  will  requite  your 
services.  I  shall  not  forget  the  good  soldiers  who 
fought  at  Crecy.  (To  Holland.)  Have  you  the 
list  of  those  found  dead  upon  the  field  ? 

Holland  (shows  parchment).  Many  are  the  names. 
The  French  who  fell  do  near  outnumber  our  whole 
army.  See,  the  King  of  Bohemia,  the  noble  counts, 
Alencon,  Flanders,  Blois,  Aumale,  with  many  more. 
Methinks  we  e'en  might  weep  over  the  roll  of  such 
illustrious  dead. 

King  (lifts  off  his  he/met).  I  lift  my  helm  which 
hath  not  left  my  head  this  day.  Give  honourable 
burial  at  Montreuil  to  the  great  allies  and  to  the  lords 
of  France.  We  will  not  quit  the  field  to-night,  but  rest 
our  weary  men.  Let  us  give  thanks  for  this  great 
victory  and  make  no  boast.     The  glory  is  not  ours  ! 

Holland.  You  have  not  broken  bread  to-day. 
Will  you  not  eat  and  drink,  my  lord  ? 

King.  Verily.  Bring  food  and  wine.  See  to  our 
men.  Come  (to  Holland),  we  will  sup  together.  (To 
Chandos.)  Have  we  no  tidings  of  our  brave  Sir  Walter 
de  Manny  ?  Doth  he  not  well  maintain  our  battle  in 
the  south,  which  we  have  fought  so  well  to-day  in 
northern  France  ? 

Chandos.  My  lord,  our  messengers  report  that 
they  have  held  Auberoche  and  Aiguillon  right  gallantly 
for  you.     He  hastens  now  to  join  us 

King.  At  Calais.  When  we  have  Calais — then  to 
England,  where  our  people  wait  to  welcome  us 
triumphant  from  the  wars  in  France  ! 

[King,  Black  Prince,  Holland,  Chandos, 
Messenger,  Peter  and  Agace,  all 
slozvly  leave  the  stage  and  go  out  left, 
singing. 


64 


EDWARD    III 


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66  EDWARD    III 

SCENE    IV 

Autumn,  1347. 

London.  In  the  hall  of  a  rich  merchant"1  s  house.  Two 
thrones  set  centre.  Table  right;  chair  beside  it.  A 
pie  on  the  table.  A  broom  against  the  wall,  on  left. 
A  shield  hanging  up. 

Enter,  left,  Peter  of  Ongar  with  a  bundle. 

Peter.  Well,  and  here  am  I,  bowman  Peter,  back 
once  more  in  England  safe  and  sound ;  and  not  re- 
turned to  Ongar  yet,  but  stayed  in  London  here  to 
see  the  great  rejoicing  when  the  King  comes  home. 
{Looks  round.)  I've  many  friends  in  London;  e'en 
in  rich  merchants'  houses  like  this  which  entertains 
the  King.  Here  my  uncle  Roger  is  steward ;  my 
cousin  is  fair  Katherine.  {Goes  left  and  calls.)  Hi  ! 
good  uncle,  where  are  ye  ?  No  answer ;  he  is  busy 
preparing  for  the  feast !  {Calls.)  Uncle,  your  valiant 
nephew  is  returned  from  the  French  wars  ; — what, 
no  answer  still  !  A  murrain  on  these  kinsfolk  who 
do  not  worthily  esteem  their  soldiers  from  across  the 
seas  !  {Shouts.)  I  have  returned  from  France  !  Old 
Roger  hath  grown  deaf,  I  think.  ( Walks  right,  to 
table.)  Ah,  there's  a  pasty  for  a  king.  {Examines pie.) 
A  royal  scent  !     I'm  fain  to  nibble  just  a  bite. 

[Stands  with  back  to  entrance,  nibbling. 

Enter,  left,  ROGER. 

Roger.    Hi !  hi !     A  thief ! 

Peter  {without  turning).  I  am  your  nephew  back 
from  France. 


Two  of  Edward  III.'s  Children. 
From  his  tomb  at  Westminster. 


68  EDWARD    III 

Roger.  Nephew,  good  sooth  !  A  thief  !  (Seizes  a 
broom  aud  chases  PETER  round  and  round  room.)  I'll 
teach  you  how  to  eat  our  pies  ! 

Enter,  left,  Katherixe. 

Katherine.  Mercy  \  good  father !  What  is  now 
afoot  ? 

Roger  (still  running  after  Peter).  I  am !  This 
rascal !     I'll  catch  him  ;  put  him  in  the  stocks  ! 

Katherine  (darts  forward,  catches  Roger).  Hold  1 
It  is  no  thief !     It  is  our  Peter  from  the  wars  ! 

[ROGER  and  PETER  stop  suddenly  and  face 
each  other;  ROGER  drops  broom; 
Katherixe  stands  between  them. 

Roger.  It  is!  It  is!  (They  embrace)  Welcome, 
brave,  noble  Peter ! 

Katherine.   Welcome,  good  cousin  ! 

Peter.  Thanks,  uncle  and  sweet  Katherine.  Am  I 
so  tanned  with  sun  and  rain  of  France,  ye  did  not 
know  me  ? 

Roger.  Nay,  nay,  ye  look  lusty  enough.  (Pants.) 
Ye  can  run  well  enough  ;  which  is  scarce  virtue  in  a 
soldier  ! 

Katherine.  I  trow  he  never  ran  away !  Poor 
Peter,  were  you  wounded  in  the  wars  ? 

Peter.  Yea,  yea,  a  trifle.  Oh,  I  have  seen  great 
sights ;  pitched  battles ;  sallies ;  assaults ;  night 
marches 

Roger  (picks  up  broom ;  sits  down  in  chair).  Tell  us 
about  your  fighting. 

Katherine.   Oh,  tell  us,  brave  Peter  ! 

Peter.  We,  the  King's  archers,  did  much  work  in 
France  ;  ever  in  the  van  ! 


EDWARD    III  69 

Roger  (waves  his  hand).  Aye,  aye,  the  good  bow- 
men of  England!  Tirra  la!  Tirra  la!  (Sivings  the 
broom ;  breaks  off  suddenly ;  rises.)  A  truce  to  these 
follies!  I've  no  time!  Where  is  the  cook?  Know 
ye  the  King  and  Queen  and  all  the  Court  will  come 
to-day  at  noon  ?     Oh,  it  will  be  a  goodly  feast ! 

Peter.  What  shall  be  served  ?  Tell  us,  good 
uncle,  what  will  the  nobles  eat  to-day  ? 

Roger.  Ah,  'tis  a  gracious  list.  (Sets  down  broom  ; 
reckons  upon  his  fingers.)  First,  comes  boar's  head, 
larded  ;  beef  and  mutton  too  ;  pork  and  swan  roasted. 

Peter.    O  uncle  ! 

Roger.  Tis  but  the  first  course.  Now,  follows 
mallard,  pheasants,  chickens,  malachies. 

Katherine.  They  will  not  complain  of  scanty  fare, 
methinks. 

Roger.  The  best  is  yet  to  come  ;  conies  in  gravy 
— that's  a  master-dish  !  Hare  in  brase,  for  pottage  ; 
teals,  woodcocks,  snipes,  hedgehogs  roasted  in  their 
spines. 

Peter.    A  fair  feast ! 

Roger.  Much  labour  'tis  for  those  who  do  prepare 
it.  Since  dawn  of  day,  we've  been  astir.  No  rest 
for  me  !  The  kitchen  folk  call  out  for  spices,  wine, 
white  flour,  each  moment. 

Cook  (calls  outside).  Hi  !  Master  Roger  ! 

Roger.  Yea,  there  the  cook  doth  call.  What 
is't? 

Cook  (calls).  The  almonds  fail  us  ! 

Roger.   Almonds  ?  I  gave  ye  plenteously  of  almonds. 

Cook  (appears  at  entrance,  left,  with  dish).  Master 
we  are  undone  ;  no  almonds  left  !  Moreover,  we  have 
now  no  sandal-wood  wherewith  to  colour  our  fair 
dish. 


7o  EDWARD    III 

Roger.   What  do  you  make  ?     What  dish  ? 

Cook.   Conies  in  gravy  ;  an  it  please  you,  sir. 

Roger.  A  goodly  dish.  But  stand  not  idly  gaping  ; 
get  to  work  ! 

Cook  [comes  in).  Pardieu  !  Alas,  my  mind  is  mazed. 
I  am  not  used  to  roast  and  bake  for  kings  and  queens. 
Conies  in  gravy !  Methinks,  I  have  forgot  some 
notable  part !  Alas,  I  cannot  tell  now  how  it  should 
be  served. 

Roger  {turns  angrily).  Worthless  knave  !  To  call 
yourself  a  cook  and  cannot  learn  a  dish  like  this  ! 

Cook.    Have  pity,  sir  ! 

Roger.  Bring  here  the  dish.  (COOK  approaches?) 
Now,  villain,  listen.  Tis  written  thus.  Take  conies 
and  parboil  them. 

Cook.   Verily,  I  did  so. 

Roger.  Chop  them  in  gobbets.  That  ye  did  not 
do.  And  seethe  them  in  a  pot.  Make  broth  in  which 
are  almonds  ground.  Then  pour  the  broth  o'er  the 
conies.  Now  add  —  mark  well  my  words  (COOK 
counts  on  his  fingers  atid  repeats) — cloves,  mace,  kernels 
of  pine-cones.  Colour  with  sandal-wood.  Lastly,  add 
wine  and  cinnamon  and  vinegar. 

Cook  [eagerly).    I  see  ;   I  see  ! 

[Rushes  out  I  eft }  with  dish. 

Roger.  Aye,  go  to  work  in  haste  !  Some  brothers 
of  the  Weavers'  Guild  will  soon  be  here  against  the 
coming  of  the  King.  Katherine,  idle  wench,  get  ye 
to  work  !  [Goes  out  left. 

Peter.  Now  he  is  gone,  sweet  Katherine,  and  e'er 
the  weavers  and  the  other  home-come  soldiers  join  us 
here,  I'll  show  what  I  have  brought  for  you  from 
France. 

Katherine.    For  me  ?  {Claps  her  hands. 


EDWARD    III  71 

Peter.  Aye,  for  you,  Kate.  Know  ye  that  Peter 
hath  done  valorous  deeds  ;  and— speak  it  low,  lest 
thievish  folk  do  envy  us  —  hath  got  some  booty, 
since  a  year  ago  he  left  our  Ongar  with  naught 
but  his  good  bow,  and  scanty  archer's  wages  in  his 
pouch. 

Katherine.  I  know  ye  have  done  noble  deeds, 
and  they  of  Ongar  and  my  father's  kinsfolk  here 
should  have  much  pride  of  you. 

Peter.  Our  bows  at  Crecy  turned  the  fortune  of 
the  battle,  well  I  wot.  All  will  be  glad  to  see  me 
home  and  run  to  meet  me  on  the  village  green.  For 
them,  and  for  my  London  kin,  I've  brought  some 
spoils  of  France. 

Katherine.    Spoils  of  France  ? 

Peter.  Yea.  In  here  {opens  out  bundle  on  table)  are 
gay  clothes  which  we  took  in  Normandy.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
[Pulls  out  kirtle.)  This  was  at  the  sacking  of  Caen 
city. 

Katherine.    Ah,  Peter  ;  but  'tis  fair. 

Peter.  Aye,  indeed  ;  for  Caen  is  a  great  city,  full 
of  merchandise.  This  kirtle  did  belong  unto  a  wealthy 
wife  of  Caen. 

Katherine.   Peter,  it  is  not  made  for  such  as  I 

Peter.  Nay,  fair  Kate ;  but  put  it  on.  [She  slips 
on  kirtle.)  It  suits  you  well.  Walk  to  and  fro  and 
give  yourself  the  air  and  bearing  of  a  dame  of 
France. 

[Katherine    walks    up    and   down    room  ; 
Peter  admiring. 

Peter.   Oh,  you  go  bravely  ! 

Katherine.  Would  I  could  see  myself  and  how 
I  do  appear  !  Here,  good  Peter,  lend  me  that  shield, 
and    in   the   shining    face    I'll    view    poor    Katherine 


72  EDWARD    III 

all  translated.  (Peter  fetches  shield  and  holds  it  up.) 
Oh,  I  am  fairer  than  my  father's  peacock  who  struts 
his  feathers  in  the  sun.  The  Queen  herself  is 
not 

Enter,  left,  Stephen  and  Simon,  with  Margery  and 
Petronilla.  Weavers  have  sacks  of  wool  and  the 
Guild  banner  which  they  set  down. 

Margery.    Hey  day  !     What  is  this  sight  ? 

Katherine.  Yea,  friends,  ye  scarce  can  know 
me. 

Petronilla.  Where  did  ye  get  that  goodly  kirtle  ? 
(Examines  it.)     Embroidered — in  sooth  ! 

Katherine  (points  to  Peter.)  Tis  Peter,  my  good 
cousin,  who  hath  just  returned  from  France. 

Stephen.  From  France  ?  He  took  that  at  the 
sacking  of  the  towns,  I  trow. 

Simon  (examines  stuff).  I  warrant  our  Kentish 
broadcloth  is  more  excellent  than  this. 

Margery.  Some  soldier  might  have  brought  me 
back  a  silken  veil  ! 

Petronilla.   Yea,  or  a  caul  of  golden  net. 

Margery.  A  chain  at  least ! 

Petronilla.    Buttons  of  silver  were  a  little  thin<£  ! 

Peter.  Fair  maids,  I'll  give  you  what  I  have! 
(Searches  in  bundle  and  pulls  out  a  veil.)  That's  a  fair 
veil  ;  we  came  by  that  in  Rouen  ! 

Margery.  Ah,  Master  Peter ;  'tis  of  red,  which 
colour  likes  me  well. 

Petronilla.  Pale  cheeks  !  Margery,  ye  had  better 
choose  another  dye  ! 

[PETER  pulls  out  a   hood  which   MARGERY   takes 
eagerly. 


EDWARD    III  73 

Margery.  Nay,  Petronilla,  keep  the  veil ;  this 
hood  is  what  I  do  desire.  [Puts  on  hood. 

Stephen.  Ye  idle  jades  !  Hold  to  good  English 
cloths  ;  that  is  the  rule  for  all. 

Simon.   Aye,  that's  the  rule. 

Re-enter,  left,  ROGER. 

Look  you,  here  comes  good  Master  Roger. 

Roger.  Greeting,  gentle  friends  ;  fair  maids —  I'm 
sore  beset.  (Runs  about  room.)  Ten  guests  can  sit 
here — nay  twenty,  methinks.  Good  master  weavers, 
I  rejoice  to  see  you —  The  serving-men  sit  there  ; 
'twill  not  allow  of  thirty  to  sit  here.  (Starts, 
seeing  KATHERINE.)  Katherine,  where  did  ye  get 
those  rich  garments  ?  Have  ye  been  stealing, 
wretched  child  ?  To  bring  your  father's  grey  head  to 
the  grave ! 

Katherine.  Nay,  nay,  good  father.  It  was  Peter 
who  brought  them  from  the  wars  for  me  and  for  all 
these  happy  maids. 

Roger.  Mercy  upon  us  !  These  are  most  strange 
days  ;  the  daughters  of  simple  men  dressed  like  to 
ladies  of  the  Court !  There  will  be  strict  laws  of 
sumptuary  made  ere  long  ;  mark  my  words  ! 

Stephen.  Aye,  and  laws  to  make  men  wear  good 
woollen  cloths  of  England. 

Simon.  In  sooth,  not  foreign  frippery.  When 
comes  the  King  ? 

Roger.  The  King,  the  King  ?  Yea,  he  will  be  here 
anon.  Oh,  such  a  work  of  boiling  and  of  baking 
meats  !  The  cook  is  near  distracted !  I  left  him 
raving  madly  mid  the  pots.  (  Voice  outside,  "  Help  !  ") 
Hark  !  now  he  calls. 


74  EDWARD    III 

Cook  {outside).    Help  !  help  !     The  conies  burn  ! 

Roger.  They  burn!  Alas!  I  come.  Ye  are  all 
idlers  !  [Rushes  out  left;  KATHERINE  follows  him, 

but  is  drawn  back  by  Peter. 

Peter.    Nay,  Katherine,  stay  with  us  here. 

Simon.  'Tis  early.  The  King  will  not  be  here 
awhile. 

Stephen.   We'll  bide  a  little. 

Peter.    Let  us  be  merry  and  all  care  forget. 

[ROGER  rushes  in  left. 

Roger.  Forget,  d'you  say  ?  What  have  I  now 
forgot  ? 

Peter.    Nay,  naught.    We'll  have  a  dance. 

Roger  (sinks  down  in  chair).  Dance  ?  I  am  too 
hot,  too  weary  and  too  old ! 

Katherine.   Oh,  let  us  dance  ! 

Petronilla  and  Margery.   A  dance  !  a  dance  ! 

Country  dance :  Morris  dance,  a  The  Maypole." 
Peter  and  Katherine,  Stephen  ##;/ Petro- 
nilla, Simon  and  Margery  dance;  Roger 
sits  and  beats  time;  COOK  comes  dancing  in 
with  completed  dish  and  dances  alone. 

MESSENGER  enters  left;  all  suddenly  stop  dancing. 

Messenger.  Good  citizens  !  The  King  and  Queen 
are  coming.  They'll  pass  through  this  hall  unto  the 
feast. 

Roger  {springs  up).  Here,  some  of  ye  !  {Marshals 
them  about.)  You  weavers,  ye  stand  there  !  {Drags 
Stephen  and  Simon  to  extreme  right.)  Yea,  take  your 
banner.  Hold  it  high.  Peter,  stand  there,  next  to 
the  weavers.     Ye  maids,  stand  thus. 


EDWARD    III  75 

[Puts  KATHERINE,   PETRONILLA,  and  MAR- 
GERY right  centre;  MESSENGER  stands 
left. 
Messenger.    Room  for  the  King  ! 

Enter,  left,  King,  Queen,  Black  Prince,  Princesses, 
Lady-in- Waiting,  Holland,  Manny,  Chandos  ; 
Roger,  &c,  bow  low. 

All.    Hail,  gracious  King  ! 

Peter.  Long  live  our  King  victorious  and  our 
noble  Oueen  ! 

King.  Greeting  to  you,  good  people  all.  We  enter 
London  joyfully  to-day  after  our  absence  long  and 
wars  in  France.  We  bring  our  son  whose  prowess 
is  beyond  his  scanty  years. 

All.    Long  live  Edward,  the  Black  Prince  ! 

Roger  (advances).  Great  King —  What  was  set  in 
my  speech  ?  We  beg  ;  we  pray — ■  (Aside  to  SiMON.) 
What  cometh  next?  Ah — that  ye  deign  to  enter 
neath  this  noble —     I  should  say  this  humble  roof. 

Peter  (aside).   Now  to  the  Queen. 

Roger.   O  gracious  Queen 

Queen.    Yea,  honest  citizen 

Roger.    WTe  do  welcome  you. 

King.  We  will  rest  upon  this  throne  a  moment 
e'er  we  move  unto  the  feast. 

\_Hands  QUEEN  to  throne  beside  him  ;  BLACK 
Prince  stands  by  King,  with  Knights 
and  Messenger  on  left ;  Princesses 
and  others  on  right. 

Simon  (bows  low).  The  Guild  of  Weavers  wait 
upon  your  Grace  to  thank  you  for  all  benefits  con- 
ferred. Our  friends  the  dyers  and  the  fullers  come 
likewise. 


76  EDWARD    III 

Enter,  left,  Adam,  a  dyer,  and  JOHN,  a  fuller,  each 
zvith  a  banner.  The  fuller  carries  the  Clothzvorkers' 
banner. 

Adam.  Hail,  noble  King !  We  are  the  dyers. 
See,  our  motley  hands  !  Who  would  have  fair  scarlet 
cloth  and  green  and  blue  if  'twere  not  for  the  dyers  ? 
We  know  our  work ;  we  know  the  plants  that  make 
the  dyes.  The  grain-tree  berries,  woad  and  madder, 
broom,  and  many  another  furnish  us. 

John  (bows  loiv).  And  do  not  shame  the  fullers. 
We,  who  cleanse  the  cloth  and  beat  it  with  our  staves 
in  earth. 

ADAM  and JOHN  stand  right,  by  WEAVERS. 
All,  except  King  and  COURT,  sing. 

Tune — "  When  the  King  enjoys  his  own  again." 

Hail,  merry  weavers,  forty  strong  ; 

Sing  with  the  guild,  the  websters'  song  ! 

The  fullers  too  their  banner  bring  ; 

The  combers  and  the  dyers  sing  ; 

O  ancient  craft  and  noble  misterie  ! 

That  lasteth  to  the  day  of  doom  ; 

The  weft  well,  I  trow,  the  warp  crosseth  now 

When  the  shuttle  flies  through  the  loom  ! 

Let  Norfolk  worsted  weaving  show, 
East  country  say  and  baize  men  know ; 
To  sing  their  praise  I  am  not  loth 
The  Lincoln  green  and  Kendal  cloth  ; 
In  June,  woad-waxen  buddeth  on  the  hill ; 
In  haytime  blows  the  dyers'  broom  ; 
Now  fast  as  ye  tread  so  flies  on  the  thread, 
And  ye  hear  the  whirl  of  the  loom. 


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78  EDWARD    III 

Hail,  lusty  brothers  of  St.  Blaise ! 

Proudly  your  combs  and  teasels  raise ; 

Soon  all  the  wool  is  turned  to  gold 

The  which  buys  glories  manifold  ; 

O  golden  craft  and  mighty  misterie  ! 

For  weavers  now  the  folk  make  room 

And  cloth  for  the  King  well  wrought  we  will  bring, 

And  we'll  join  in  the  song  of  the  loom. 

Queen.  I  am  right  glad  that  weaving  hath  thriven 
since  the  day  my  Flemings  settled  here. 

Roger.  Happy  the  towns  they  enter,  men  do  say, 
for  there  wealth  and  prosperity  increase. 

Simon.  Bring  now  the  sacks  of  wool  and  lay  them 
at  the  King's  feet. 

[Simon  and  Stephen  lay  sacks  before  King. 

King.  Which  hath  brought  us  riches  and  the 
means  to  wage  our  war.  Thanks,  good  citizens.  And 
now,  fair  knights,  I  call  you,  to-day,  as  Arthur  called 
his  Knights  of  Table  Round.  Who  are  here  present 
of  our  new  founded  order  ? 

Black  Prince.   I  am  ! 

Holland.   And  I,  my  lord. 

King.  Ye  know  the  commandment  which  we  gave 
for  mantles  and  surcoats  to  be  worn  by  members  of 
our  order. 

Messenger.  Aye,  sire,  'tis  written  they  shall  wear 
blue,  powdered  o'er  with  broidered  garters,  lined  with 
scarlet,  and  surcoats  furred  with  miniver. 

King.  The  gentle  ladies  shall  attend  our  festival, 
else  were  joy  lacking.  Now  let  us  to  the  feast ! 
Each  knight  will  choose  the  lady  who  will  watch 
and  praise  his  prowess  in  the  tournaments  we 
hold. 


EDWARD    III  79 

Manny  {to  Lady).  Then,  may  I  wear  some  favour 
on  my  helm  ? 

Lady  {to  Manny  ;  gives  him  a  veil).  Yea,  verily,  Sir 
Knight. 

King.  Good  citizens,  ye  shall  all  see  the  jousts. 
We  do  decree  that  tournaments  be  held  at  Cheapside 
and  at  Smithfield,  from  this  winter-time  until  May- 
day, with  great  rejoicing  and  good  cheer.  Ye'll  prove 
yourselves,  my  knights,  as  gay  and  courtly  now,  as 
ye  were  valorous  in  the  wars  with  France. 


All  sing. 

Tune — "  You  Gentlemen  of  England." 

St.  George  for  Merry  England  ! 
Loud  was  our  battle-cry ; 
And  to  the  winds  of  heaven 
The  red  cross  streaming  high  ; 
And  evermore  the  names  resound 

Of  Calais  and  Crecy  ; 
Trumpet  call,  trumpet  call, 
To  England's  chivalry  ! 


"Dieu  et  mon  Droit"  through  fair  France 

Is  lit  in  lines  of  flame, 

And  Edward's  golden  leopards 

The  royal  lilies  claim  ; 

And  evermore  the  names  resound 

Of  Calais  and  Crecy ; 
Trumpet  call,  trumpet  call, 
To  England's  chivalry ! 


8o  EDWARD    III 

In  the  beleaguered  cities, 

Aaberoche  and  Aiguillon  ; 

God  and  St.  George  for  England 

Held  high  our  gonfalon  ; 

And  evermore  the  names  resound 

Of  Calais  and  Crecy  ; 
Trumpet  call,  trumpet  call, 
To  England's  chivalry  ! 

[During  last  verse,  King  and  Queen  lead  proces- 
sion round  stage,  followed  by  Black  Prince, 
Princesses,  Lady,  Sir  T.  Holland,  Sir 
W.  Manny,  Sir  J.  Chandos,  Messenger, 
Simon  and  Stephen  with  Weavers  banner, 
Adam  with  Dyers'  banner,  John  with  Cloth- 
workers  banner ;  ROGER,  PETER,  KATHERINE, 
Margery,  Petkonilla,  Cook  ;  all  go  out  left. 


Printed  by  Ballantvnk,  Hanson  <5f*  Co. 

Edinburgh  <£?■=  London 


Historical  Plays  for 
Children 


BY 

MICE    MAGDONELL 

WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS   BY  THE   AUTHOR 

Produced  under  the  Auspices  of  the 
League  of  the  Empire 

Crown  8vo,  paper  Covers,  25  cents  each 

1.  Alfred  the  Great. 

2.  Robin  Hood. 

3.  The  Armada. 

4.  The  Enterprise  of  the  "Mayftober. 

5.  Saxon  and  Norman. 

6.  Magna  Carta.  1  One-Act  Plays 
EdWard  III.     J     in  One  Book. 

7.  Caedmon. 
The  Burghers  of 

Calais. 
The  Good  Queen. 

8.  The  Crusaders. 


»» 


In  One  Book.. 


THE  MUSSON  BOOK  COMPANY,  Ltd. 
LONDON :  GEORGE  ALLEN  &  SONS 


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