Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,
I thought, upon one pair of English legs

Did march three Frenchmen. Yet, forgive me, God,
That I do brag thus; this your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy mafter, here I am;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk;
My army but a weak and fickly guard :

Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself, and fuch another neighbour,
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Mountjoy.
Go, bid thy mafter well advise himself :

If we may pafs, we will; if we be hinder'd,
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 shun it:
So tell your master.

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

[Exit.

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

[Exeunt.

SCENE, the French Camp near Agincourt.

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

Con.

T

UT, I have the beft armour of the world.
Would, it were day!

Orl. You have an excellent armour; but let my horfe 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 horfe, 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 horfe with any that treads but on four pafterns; fa, ba! le Cheval volant, the Pegafus, chez les Narines de feu! 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 basest horn of his hoof is more mufical than the pipe of Her

mes.

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

;

Dau. And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast 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 horfe; and all other jades you may call beafts.

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

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

Ori. 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 praife on my palfry; it is a theme as fluent as the fea turn the fands into eloquent tongues, and my horfe is argument for them all; 'tis a fubject for a Soveraign to reafon on, and for a Soveraign's Soveraign 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 mistress bears well.

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

Con.

Con. Methought, yesterday your mistress fhrewdly 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 Troffers. (28)

Con. You have good judgment in horsemanship.

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

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

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

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

Dau. Le chien eft retourné à son propre vomiffement, & la truie lavée au bourbier; thou mak'ft ufe of any thing. Con. Yet do I not ufe my horfe for my miftrefs; or any such proverb, fo little kin to the purpose.

Ram. My lord Conftable, the armour, that I faw in your tent to night, are thofe ftars, or funs upon it? Con. Stars, my lord.

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

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

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

(28) Like a Kerne of Ireland, your French hofe off, and in your firait Stroffers.] Thus all the Editions have mistaken this Word, which fhould be Troffers; and fignifies, a pair of Breeches. So Beaumont and Fletcher, in their Coxcomb;

.0

you

hobby-headed Rafcal, I'll have you flea'd, and Troffers made of thy Skin to tumble in.

The French call, to trufs or pack up, troffer; whether our Word, Troufers, be deriv'd from thence, I am not certain: But, by ftrait Troffers, our Poet humourously means, femoribus denudatis: for the Kernes of Ireland wear no Breeches, any more than the Scotch-Highlanders

do.

Dau.

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 fhou'd 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 prisoners?

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

Dau. 'Tis mid-night, I'll go arm my felf.
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 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 appears, it will bate.

Orl. I 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 bis 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.

Ori. You are the better at proverbs, by how much

a fool's bolt is foon shot.

Con. You have shot over.

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

Enter a Messenger.

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

Con. Who hath meafur'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 head-pieces.

Ram. That land 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 crush'd like rotten apples. You may as well fay, that's a valiant Flea, that dares eat his breakfast on the lip of a Lion.

Con. Juft, juft; and the men do fymphathize 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 these English are fhreudly 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. 'Tis two a clock; but (let me fee) by ten, We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.

[Exeunt.

Enter