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Toward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have built
K. Hen. My brother Gloster's voice?-Ay;
SCENE II.--The French Camp.
Enter Dauphin, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and Others. Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my
lords. Dau. Montez a cheval :-My horse! valet! lacquay! ha! Orl. O brave spirit! Dau. Via !-les eaux et la terreOrl. Rien puis? l'air et le ferDau. 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.
Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!
Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones,
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.
SCENE III.—The English Camp.
Enter the English Host; GLOSTER, BEDFORD, EXETER,
SALISBURY, and WESTMORELAND. Glo. Where is the king?
Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle. West. Of fighting men they have full threescore thou
sand. Exe. There's five to one; besides, they are all fresh.
Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.
[Exit SALISBURY. Bed. He is as full of valour, as of kindness; Princely in both.
West. O that we now had here
Enter King Henry.
K. Hen. What's he, that wishes so?
Such outward things dwell not in my desires : But, if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man from England: God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour, As one man more, methinks, would share from me, For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more : Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he, which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse : We would not die in that man's company, That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is call’d—the feast of Crispian : He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He, that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, And say—to morrow is Saint Crispian : Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, And say, these wounds I had on Crispian's day. Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, But he'll remember, with advantages, What feats he did that day : Then shall our names, Familiar in their mouths as household words, Harry, the king, Bedford, and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury, and Gloster,Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd: This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world,