Act IV, Scene ii: The French camp. | [Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures, and others.] |
| ORLEANS: | | The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords! |
| DAUPHIN: | | Montez a cheval! My horse, varlet! lackey! ha! |
| DAUPHIN: | | Via! les eaux et la terre. |
| ORLEANS: | | Rien puis? L'air et le feu. |
| DAUPHIN: | | Ciel, cousin Orleans. |
| CONSTABLE: | | Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh! |
| DAUPHIN: | | Mount them, and make incision in their hides, | | That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, | | 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? |
| 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 crouch down in fear and yield. |
| 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, drooping the hides and hips, | | The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes, | | And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit | | Lies foul with chew'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 guard; on 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. |
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