mistress;

Con. Yet do I not use my horse for my or any such proverb, so little kin to the purpose. Ram. My lord constable, the armor, 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 honor, 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 ?

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

Dau. 'Tis midnight; I'll go arm myself. [Exit.
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 any body saw it but his lackey: 'tis a hooded valor; and when it appears, it will bate.1

Orl. 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.

1 Fall off, evaporate. An equivoque on terms of falconrv.

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

Enter MESSENGER.

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

Con. Who hath measured the ground?

Mes. 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.

1

Orl. What a wretched and peevish 1 fellow is this king of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so far out of his knowlege!

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

Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armor, 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 sympathise with the mastiffs, in robustious and rough coming-on,

Silly.

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.

ACT IV.

[Exeunt.

Enter CHORus.

Cho. 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,

1

The hum of either army stilly 1 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 2 face:
Steeds threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs

Gently, lowly.

2 Discolored by the gleam of the fires.

Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,
The armorers, 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-lusty1 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 color
Unto the weary and all-watched night :

1 Over-saucy.