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And dout them with superfluous courage, ha!

RAMBURES.

What, will you have them weep our horses' blood?

How shall we then behold their natural tears?

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER.

The English are embattl'd, you French peers.

CONSTABLE.

To horse, you gallant Princes! straight to horse!

Do but behold yon poor and starved band,

And your fair show shall suck away their souls,

Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.

There is not work enough for all our hands;

Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins

To give each naked curtle-axe a stain

That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,

And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them,

The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.

'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,

That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants-

Who in unnecessary action swarm

About our squares of battle- were enow

To purge this field of, such a hilding foe;

Though we upon this mountain's basis by

Took stand for idle speculation-

But that our honours must not. What's to say?

A very little little let us do,

And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound

The tucket sonance and the note to mount;

For our approach shall so much dare the field

That England shall couch down in fear and yield.

Enter GRANDPRE

GRANDPRE.

Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?

Yond island carrions, desperate of their bones,

Ill-favouredly become the morning field;

Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,

And our air shakes them passing scornfully;

Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,

And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.

The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks

With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jades

Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips,

The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes,

And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal'd bit

Lies foul with chaw'd grass, still and motionless;

And their executors, the knavish crows,

Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.

Description cannot suit itself in words

To demonstrate the life of such a battle

In life so lifeless as it shows itself.

CONSTABLE.

They have said their prayers and they stay for death.

DAUPHIN.

Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits,

And give their fasting horses provender,

And after fight with them?

CONSTABLE.

I stay but for my guidon. To the field!

I will the banner from a trumpet take,

And use it for my haste. Come, come, away!

The sun is high, and we outwear the day. Exeunt

SCENE III. The English camp

Enter GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, ERPINGHAM, with all his host;

SALISBURY and WESTMORELAND

GLOUCESTER.

Where is the King?

BEDFORD.

The King himself is rode to view their battle.

WESTMORELAND.

Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand.

EXETER.

There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.

SALISBURY.

God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.

God bye you, Princes all; I'll to my charge.

If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,

Then joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,

My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,

And my kind kinsman- warriors all, adieu!

BEDFORD.

Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!

EXETER.

Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly to-day;

And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,

For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.

Exit SALISBURY

BEDFORD.

He is as full of valour as of kindness;

Princely in both.

Enter the KING

WESTMORELAND.

O that we now had here

But one ten thousand of those men in England

That do no work to-day!

KING.

What's he that wishes so?

My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;

If we are mark'd to die, we are enow

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,

Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;

It yearns me not if men my garments wear;

Such outward things dwell not in my desires.

But if it be a sin to covet honour,

I am the most offending soul alive.