And what have kings, that privates have not too, What is the soul1 of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Wherein thou art less happy, being fear'd, Than they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poison'd flattery? O, be sick, great greatness, And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! Think'st thou, the fiery fever will go out With titles blown from adulation? Will it give place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, Command the health of it? No, thou proud dream, I am a king, that find thee; and I know, 1 Intrinsic value. 2 Stuffed, tumid. That beats upon the high shore of this world,— Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave; And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep, Had the forehand and vantage of a king. The slave, a member of the country's peace, Enjoys it; but in gross brain little wots, What watch the king keeps to maintain the peace, Whose hours the peasant best advantages. Enter ERPINGHAM. Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your ab sence, Seek through your camp to find you. K. Hen. Good old knight, Collect them all together at my tent: 1 The sun. Erp. I shall do 't, my lord. [Exit. K. Hen. O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts! Possess them not with fear; take from them now The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers O, not to-day, think not upon the fault Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up Glos. My liege! K. Hen. Enter GLOSTER. My brother Gloster's voice ?-Ay ; I know thy errand; I will go with thee. The day, my friends, and all things stay for me. [Exeunt. SCENE II. The French camp. Enter DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and others. Orl. The sun doth gild our armor; up, my lords. Dau. Montez à cheval:-My horse! valet! lacquay! ha! Orl. O brave spirit! Dau. Via! 1-les eaux et la terre Orl. Rien puis? l'air 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, Ram. What, will you have them weep our horses' blood? How shall we then behold their natural tears? An old exclamation of encouragement. Do them out, extinguish them. Enter MESSEnger. Mes. The English are embattled, you French peers. Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse! Do but behold yon poor and starved band, That our French gallants shall to-day draw out, The vapor of our valor will o'erturn them. 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords, That our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants,— Who, in unnecessary action, swarm 1 About our squares of battle,—were enough What's to say? But that our honors must not. 1 Despicable. 2 An introductory florish. |