William Shakespeare's The Life of King Henry the Fifth in the complete original text.
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The Life of King Henry the Fifth

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Act IV. Scene II.

Scene II.—The French Camp.

Enter the DAUPHIN. ORLEANS, RAMBURES,
and Others.
Orl. The sun doth gild our armour: up, my
lords!
Dau. Montez à cheval! My horse! varlet!
lacquais! ha!
Orl. O brave spirit!
Dau. Via! les eaux et la terre!
Orl. Rien puts? fair et le feu.
Dau. Ciel! cousin Orleans.

Enter CONSTABLE.
Now, my lord constable!
Con. Hark how our steeds for present service
neigh!
Dau. Mount them, and make incision in their
hides,
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And dout them with superfluous courage: ha!
Ram. What! will you have them weep our
horses' blood?
How shall we then behold their natural tears?

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. The English are embattail'd, you French
peers.
Con. 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 native curtal-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 couch down in fear and yield.

Enter GRANDPRÉ.
Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords of
France?
Yon island carrions desperate of their bones,
Ill-favour'dly 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, dropping 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.
Con. They have said their prayers, and they
stay for death.
Dau. Shall we go send them dinners and fresh
suits,
And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them?
Con. 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.
[Exeunt.
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