We fhall your tawny ground with your red blood
Difcolour; and fo, Mountjoy, fare you well!
The fum of all our answer is but this ;
We would not feek a battle as we are,
Yet as we are, we fay we will not fhun it:
So tell your master,

Mount. I fhall deliver fo: thanks to your Highness.

Glou. I hope they will not come upon us now.

[Exit.

K. Henry. We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs: March to the bridge; it now draws toward night; Beyond the river we'll encamp our felves,

And on to-morrow bid them march away.

SCENE VII.

The French Camp near Agincourt.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Conftable of France, the Lord Rambures, Orleans, Dauphin, with others.

Con. Tut, I have the beft armour of the world. Orl. You have an excellent armour; but let my horfe have his due.

Con. It is the beft horse of Europe.

Orl. Will it never be morning?

Dau. My Lord of Orleans and my Lord high Constable, you talk of horse and armour?

Orl. You are as well provided of both as any Prince in the world.

Dau. What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pafterns; he bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were hairs; when I beftride him, I foar, I am a hawk; he trots the air, the earth fings when he touches it; the bafeft horn of his hoof is more mufical than the pipe of Hermes.

Orl. He's of the colour of a nutmeg.

Dau. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beaft for Perfeus; he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient ftilnefs while his rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beafts.

Con. Indeed, my Lord, it is a moft abfolute and excellent horfe.

VOL. V.

T

Dau.

Dau. It is the prince of palfreys, his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.

Orl. No more, coufin.

Dau. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the rifing of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deferved praise on my palfrey; it is a theme as fluent as the fea turn the fands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all; 'tis a fubject for a Sovereign to reafon on, and for a Sovereign's Sovereign to ride on; and for the world, familiar to us and unknown, to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at him. I once writ a fonnet in his praife, and began thus, Wonder of

nature

.

Orl. I have heard a fonnet begin fo to one's mistress.

Dau. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my courfer; for my horfe is my mistress.

Orl. Your miftrefs bears well.

Dau. Me well, which is the prefcript praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress.

Con. Methought yesterday your mistress fhrewdly fhook your back.

Dau. So perhaps did yours.

Con. Mine was not bridled.

Dau. O then belike she was old and gentle, and you rode like a Kerne of Ireland, your Frencb hofe off, and in your ftrait trouffers.

Con. You have good judgment in horfemanship.

Dau. Be warn'd by me then; they that ride fo and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs; I had rather have my horfe to my mistress.

Con. I had as lieve have my mistress a jade.

Dau. I tell thee, Conftable, my mistress wears her own hair.

Con. I could make as true a boaft as that, if I had a fow to my mistress.

Dau. Le chien eft retournée à fon propre vomislement, & la truie lavée au bourbier; thou mak'ft ufe of any thing. Con. Yet do I not use my horfe for my mistress, or any fuch proverb, so little kin to the purpose.

Ram.

Ram. My Lord Conftable, the armour that I faw in

your tent to-night, are those stars, or funs upon it?

Con. Stars, my Lord.

Dau, Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope.

Con. And yet my sky shall not want.

Dau. That may be, for you bear many fuperfluously, and 'twere more honour fome were away.

Con. Ev'n as your horfe bears your praises, who would trot as well were fome of your brags difmounted.

Dau. Would I were able to load him with his defert. Will it never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile, and my way fhall be paved with English faces.

Con, I will not fay fo, for fear I fhould be fac'd out of my way; but I would it were morning, for I would fain be about the ears of the English.

Ram. Who will go to hazard with me for twenty English prifoners?

Con. You must first go your self to hazard ere you have them.

Dau. 'Tis midnight, I'll go arm my self.
Orl. The Dauphin longs for morning.
Ram. He longs to eat the English.

Con. I think he will eat all he kills.

[Exit.

Orl. By the white hand of my Lady, he's a gallant Prince.

Con. Swear by her foot, that she may tread out the oath,
Orl. He is fimply the most active gentleman of France.
Con. Doing is activity, and he will still be doing.
Orl. He never did harm that I heard of.

Con. Nor will do none to-morrow; he will keep that good name ftill.

Orl. I know him to be valiant.

Con, I was told that by one that knows him better than you.

Orl. What's he?

Con. Marry, he told me fo himself, and he faid he car'd not who knew it. *

who knew it.

Orl. He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in him.

Con. By my faith, Sir, but it is; never any body faw it but his lacquey; 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appears it will abate.

Orl.

SCENE VIII. Enter a Meffenger.

Me My Lord high Conftable, the English lye within fifteen hundred paces of your tents.

Con. Who hath measur'd the ground?

Me. The Lord Grandpree.

Con. A valiant and moft expert gentleman. Would it were day! Alas poor Harry of England, he longs not for the dawning as we do.

Orl. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers fo far out of his knowledge!

Con. If the English had any apprehenfion, they would

run away.

Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear fuch heavy headpieces.

Ram. That Island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their maftiffs are of unmatchable courage.

Orl. Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Ruffian Bear, and have their heads crufh'd like rotten apples. You may as well fay, that's a valiant Flea that dares eat his breakfaft on the lip of a Lion.

Con. Juft, juft; and the men do fympathize with the maftiffs in robuftious and rough coming on, leaving their wits with their wives; and then give them great meals of beef, and iron and fteel, they will eat like wolves, and fight like devils.

Orl. Ay; but these English are fhrewdly out of beef.

Con. Then fhall we find to-morrow they have only ftomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm; come, fhall we about it?

Orl. Ill-will never faid well.

Con. I will cap that proverb with, There is flattery in friendship.
Orl. And I will take up that with, Give the devil his due.

Con. Well plac'd; there itands your friend for the devil; have at the very eye of that proverb with, A pox of the devil.

Orl. You are the better at proverbs, by how much A fool's bolt is foon fhot.

Con. You have shot over.

Orl. 'Tis not the first time you were over-fhot.

SCENE ----

Orl.

Orl. 'Tis two a clock; but (let me fee) by ten
We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
Enter Chorus.

·

Cho. Now entertain conjecture of a time, When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide veffel of the universe.

[Exeunt.

From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,
The hum of either arm ftilly founds,

That the fixt centinels almoft receive

The fecret whispers of each other's watch.
Fire anfwers fire, and through their paly flames
Each battel fees the other's umber'd face.
Steed threatens fteed in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,
The armourers accomplishing the knights,
With bufie hammers clofing rivets up,

Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll;
And the third hour of drowfie morning's nam'd.
Proud of their numbers and fecure in foul,
The confident and over-lufty French
For the low-rated English play at dice ;
And chide the cripple tardy-gated night,
Who like a foul and ugly witch does limp
Sit tediously. The poor condemned Englife,
Like facrifices, by their watchful fires
So patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger: and their gefture fad
In wafted lank-lean cheeks and war-worn coats,
Prefenteth them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghofts. Who now beholds
The royal captain of this ruin'd band

Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
Let him cry, praise and glory on his head!

For forth he goes and vifits all his host,

Bids them good-morrow with a modeft fmile,
And calls them brothers, friends, and countrymen.

Upon his royal face there is no note

How dread an army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour

Unto