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Con. Nay, for methought Yefterday your Miftrefs fhrewd. ly fhook your Back.

Dau. So perhaps did yours.

Con. Mine was not bridled.

Dau. O then belike fhe was old and gentle, and you rode like a Kerne of Ireland, your French Hofe off, and in your ftrait Stroffers.

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.

Dan. I tell thee Conftable, my Mistress wears his own Hair.

Con. I could make as true a Boaft as that, if I had a Sow to my Miftrefs.

Dau. Le chien eft retourné à fon propre vomissement, & la truie lavée au bourbier; thou mak'ft ufe of any thing.

Con. Yet do I not ufe my Horfe for my Mistress, or any fuch Proverb, fo little kin to the purpose.

Ram. My Lord Conftable, the Armour that I faw in your Tent to Night, are thofe Stars or Suns upon it? Con. Stars, my Lord.

Dau. Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope.
Con. And yet my Sky fhall not want.

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

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

Dan. 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 Prifoners?

Con. You must firft go your felf to hazard, ere you have them.

Dan. 'Tis Mid night, I'll go arm my self.

[Exit

Orl.

Orl. The Dauphin longs for Morning.
Ram. He longs to eat the English.

Con. I think he will eat all he kills.

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

Con. Swear by her Foot, that fhe may tread out the Oath.

Orl. He is fimply the most active Gentleman of France.
Con. Doing is activity, and he will ftill 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 said he car'd not 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 ap pears, it will abate.

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 ftands 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 Fool's Bolt is foon fhot.

Con. You have shot over.

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

Enter a Meffenger.

Meff. My Lord high Conftable, the English lye within fifteen hundred Paces of your Tents.

Con. Who hath measur'd the Ground?
Meff. The Lord Grandpree.

Con.

Con. A valiant and most 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 intelle&tual Armour, they could never wear fuch heavy Headpieces.

Ram. That Ifland of England breeds very valiant Crea tures; their Mastiffs are of unmatchable Courage.

Orl.. Foolish Curs, that run winking into the Mouth of a Ruffian Bear, and have their Heads crush'd like rotten Apples; you may as well say, that's a valiant Flea, that dare eat his Breakfast 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 Steel; they will eat like Wolves, and fight like Devils.

Orl. Ay, but thefe English are fhrewdly out of Beef.

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

Orl. It is now two a Clock; but let me fee, by ten We fhall have each a hundred Englishmen.

ACT III. SCENE

Enter Chorus.

TOW entertain Conjecture of a time,

[Exeunt

N When creeping Murmur and the poring Dark

Fills the wide Veffel of the Universe.

I

From Camp to Camp, through the foul Womb of Night, The Hum of either Army ftilly founds,

That

That the fixt Centinels almost receive
The fecret Whispers of each others Watch.
Fire answers Fire, and through their paly Flames
Each Battel fees the others umber'd face.

Steed threatens Steed, in high and boaftful 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 towli
And the third Hour of droufie Morning nam'd,
Proud of their Numbers, and fecure in Soul,
The confident and over-lufty French,
Do the low-rated English play at Dice:
And chide the criple-tardy-gated Night,
Who like a foul and ugly Witch do's limp
So tedioufly away. The poor condemned English,
Like Sacrifices, by their watchful Fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The Mornings Danger: And their Gesture fad,
Investing lank-lean Cheeks, and War-worn Coats,
Prefented them unto the gazing Moon

So many horrid Ghofts. O now who will behold
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 Hoft,

Bids them good morrow with a modest Smile,
And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Country-men.
Upon his Royal Face there is no Note,

How dread an Army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he Dedicate one jot of Colour
Unto the weary and all-watched Night:
But freshly looks, and over-bears Attaint,
With chearful Semblance, and fweet Majefty:
That every Wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks Comfort from his Looks.
A Largefs univerfal, like the Sun,

His liberal Eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold Fear, that mean and gentle all

Behold,

Behold, as may Unworthiness define,
A little touch of Harry in the Night.
And fo our Scene muft to the Battel fly:
Where, O for pity, we fhall much difgrace,
With four or five moft vile and ragged foils
(Right ill difpes'd, in brawl ridiculous)
The Name of Agincourt. Yet fit and fee,
Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries be. [Exit.
Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloucefter.

K. Henry. Glofter, 'tis true that we are in great danger,
The greater therefore fhould- our Courage be.
Good morrow, Brother Bedford: God Almighty,
There is fome Soul of Goodness in things Evil,
Would Men obfervingly distil it out.

For our bad Neighbour makes us early Stirrers,
Which is both Healthful, and good Husbandry.
Befides, they are our outward Confciences,
And Preachers to us all, admonishing,
That we should drefs us fairly for our end.
Thus may we gather Honey from the Weed,
And make a Moral of the Devil himself.
Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good foft Pillow for that good white Head
Were better, than a churlish Turf of France.

Erping. Not fo my Liege, this Lodging likes me better, Since I may fay, now lye I like a King.

K. Henry. 'Tis good for Men to love their prefent Pain, Upon Example, fo the Spirit is eased:

And when the Mind is quickened, out of doubt
The Organs, though Defunct and Dead before,
Break up their drowfie Grave, and newly move
With cafted flough, and fresh celerity.

Lend me thy Cloak, Sir Thomas: Brothers both,
Commend me to the Princes in our Camp:

Do my good-morrow to them, and anon
Defire them all to my Pavillion.

Glo. We fhall, my Liege.

Erping. Shall I attend your Grace?
K. Henry. No, my good Knight:

Go

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