_Edricus_. Renowned Soveraigne, doe not fret your self. Fortune in turninge will exalt your state And change the Countenaunce of her cloudy browe, Now you must hope for better still and better And _Edmond_ must expect still worse and worse, A lowringe morning proves a fayer daye, Fortunes ilfavord frowne shewes shee will smile On you and frowne on _Ironside_.
_Canutus_. What telst thou mee of fortune and her frownes, Of her sower visage and her rowling stone? Thy tongue rowles headlong into flattery. Now by theis heavens above our wretched heades Ye are but cowards every one of you! _Edmond_ is blest: oh, had I but his men, I would not doute to conquer all the world In shorter time the [then] _Alexander_ did. But all my _Daines_ are Braggadochios And I accurst to bee the generall Of such a stocke of fearefull runawaies.
_South_. Remember you have lost Ten Thousand men, All _English_ borne except a Thousand _Daines_. Your pensive lookes will kill them that survive If thus to Choller you give libertie.
_Canutus_. It weare no matter if they all weare slaine, Then they should neaver runne awaye againe.
_Uska_. My noble lord, our Cuntrymen are safe: In all their broyles _English_ gainst _English_ fight; The _Daines_ or none or very few are slaine.
_Canutus_. It was a signe yee fledd and did not fight. [_turns towards Uskatant_. Ist not a dishonour unto you To see a foraingne nation fight for mee Whenas my homebred Cuntrymen doe runne, Leaving theire king amongest his enimies?
_Edricus_. Give not such scoope to humerous discontent, Wee all are partners of your privat greefes. Kinges are the heads, and yf the head but ache The little finger is distempered. Wee greeve to se you greeved, which hurteth us And yet availes not to asswage your greefe. You are the Sunne, my lo:, wee Marigolds; Whenas you shine wee spred our selves abroad And take our glory from your influence; And when you hide your face or darken yt With th'least incounter of a clowdy looke, Wee close our eies as partners of your woes, Droopinge our heades as grasse downe waid with due. Then cheere ye upp, my lord, and cheere upp us, For now our valours are extinguished And all our force lyes drownd in brinish teares, As Jewells in the bottome of the sea. --I doe beseech your grace to heare mee speake. [_Edricus talks to him_.