SCENE VII.-The French camp, near Agincourt.

Enter the CONSTABLE of France, the Lord RAMBURES,
the Duke of ORLEANS, DAUPHIN, and others.

Con. Tut! I have the best armour of the world.-'’Would, it were day!

Orl. You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due.

Con. It is the best 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 pasterns, Ca ha! He bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a les narines de feu! When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.

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

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

Con. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse. Dau. It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. Orl. No more, cousin.

Dau. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot, from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey: it is a theme as fluent as the sea; turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subject for a sovereign to reason 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 sonnet in his praise, and began thus: Wonder of nature,

Orl. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.

Dau. Then did they imitate that which I composed to my courser; for my horse is my mistress.

Orl. Your mistress bears well.

Dau. Me well: which is the prescript praise and perfection of a good and particular mistress.

Con. Ma foy! the other day, methought, your mistress shrewdly shook your back.

Dau. So, perhaps did yours.

Con. Mine was not bridled.

*As if he were a tennis-ball.

Dau. O! then, belike, she was old and gentle; and you rode like a kerne of Ireland, your French hose off, and in your strait trossers.*

Con. You have good judgment in horsemanship.

Dau. Be warned by me then: they that ride so, and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs; I had rather have my horse to my mistress.

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

Dau. I tell thee, constable, my mistress wears her own hair. Con. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sow to my mistress.

Dau. Le chien est retourné à son propre vomissement, et la truie lavée au bourbier: thou makest use of anything.

Con. Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress; or any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose.

Ram. My lord constable, the armour, that I saw in your tent to-night, are those stars, or suns, 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 a many superfluously; and 'twere more honour some were away.

Con. Even as your horse bears your praises; who would trot as well, were some of your brags dismounted.

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

Con. I will not say so, for fear I should be faced 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 prisoners?

[Exit.

Con. You must first go yourself to hazard, ere you have them.
Dau. 'Tis midnight, I'll go arm myself.
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 she may tread out the oath.

Orl. He is, simply, 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 still.

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 so himself; and he said, he cared not who knew it.

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

Con. By my faith, Sir, but it is; never anybody saw it, but

* Trowsers.

his lackey: 'tis a hooded valour; and, when it appears, it will bate.*

Órl. Ill will never said 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 placed; there stands 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 soon shot.

Con. You have shot over.

Orl. "Tis not the first time you were overshot.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. My lord high constable, the English lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tent.

Con. Who hath measured the ground?

Mess. The lord Grandpré.

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 peevisht fellow is this king of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so far out of his knowledge!

Con. If the English had any apprehension, they would run

away.

Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces.

Ram. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.

Orl. Foolish curs! that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed 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. Just, just; and the men do sympathize with the mastiffs, in robustious 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 these English are shrewdly out of beef.

Con. Then we shall find to-morrow-they have only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm: Come, shall we about it?

Orl. It is now two o'clock: but, let me see,-by ten, We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

Enter CHORUS.

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

From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds,

That the fix'd sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other's watch:

Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd* face:

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty+ French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp

So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires

Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger; and their gesture sad,
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghosts. 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 visits all his host;
Bids them good-morrow, with a modest smile;

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 the weary and all-watched night:
But freshly looks, and over-bears attaint,
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal, like the sun,

His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all,

* Coloured by the gleam of the fires.
+ Over-saucy.
+ Gamble for.

Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Harry in the night:
And so our scene must to the battle fly;
Where, (O for pity!) we shall much disgrace-
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
Right ill disposed, in brawl ridiculous,-
The name of Agincourt: Yet, sit and see;
Minding true things, by what their mockeries be.

SCENE I.-The English Camp at Agincourt.

Enter KING HENRY, BEDFORD, and GLOSTER.
K. Hen. Gloster, 'tis true, that we are in great danger;
The greater, therefore should our courage be.-
Good morrow, brother Bedford.-God Almighty!
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out;

For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry:
Besides, they are our outward consciences,
And preachers to us all; admonishing,
That we should dress 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 soft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlish turf of France.

Erp. Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better,
Since I may say-now lie I like a king.

K. Hen. Tis good for men to love their present pains,

Upon example; so the spirit is eased:

And, when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,

The organs, though defunct and dead before,
Break up their drowsy grave, and newly move
With casted slough and fresh legerity.†

Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas.-Brothers both,
Commend me to the princes in our camp;
Do my good-morrow to them; and, anon,
Desire them all to my pavilion.

Glo. We shall, my liege.

[Exit.

[Exeunt GLOSTER and BEDFORD.

Erp. Shall I attend your grace?

K. Hen. No, my good knight;

Go with my brothers to my lords of England:

I and my bosom must debate awhile,

And then I would no other company.

Erp. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!

K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speakest cheerfully.

* Calling to remembrance.

[Exit ERPINGHAM.

+ Nimbleness.