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Table of contents

O Seigneur Dieu!

Neanmoins, je reciterai une autre fois ma lecon ensemble: de hand, de fingres, de nails, de arm, de elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de coun. Constable And if he be not fought withal, my lord, Let us not live in France; let us quit all And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. Mort de ma vie! Constable Dieu de batailles!

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Is not their climate foggy, raw and dull, On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water, A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley-broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine, Seem frosty? O, for honour of our land, Let us not hang like roping icicles Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty people Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields!

Poor we may call them in their native lords. Up, princes! Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur: Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon: Go down upon him, you have power enough, And in a captive chariot into Rouen Bring him our prisoner.

Constable This becomes the great. Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick and famish'd in their march, For I am sure, when he shall see our army, He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear And for achievement offer us his ransom.

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And let him say to England that we send To know what willing ransom he will give. Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen. Now forth, lord constable and princes all, And quickly bring us word of England's fall. There is an aunchient lieutenant there at the pridge, I think in my very conscience he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony; and he is a man of no estimation in the world; but did see him do as gallant service. I have the best armour of the world.

Would it were day! Constable It is the best horse of Europe. I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. It is a beast for Perseus: he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in Patient stillness while his rider mounts him: he is indeed a horse; and all other jades you may call beasts. Constable Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse.

DAUPHIN Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the rising of the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey: it is a theme as fluent as the sea: turn the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's sovereign to ride on; and for the world, familiar to us and unknown to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at him. Constable Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back.

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Constable Mine was not bridled. Constable You have good judgment in horsemanship. I had rather have my horse to my mistress. Constable I had as lief have my mistress a jade. Constable I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sow to my mistress. Constable Yet do I not use my horse for my mistress, or any such proverb so little kin to the purpose. Constable Stars, my lord. Constable And yet my sky shall not want. Constable Even as your horse bears your praises; who would trot as well, were some of your brags dismounted.

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Will it never be day? I will trot to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved with English faces. Constable 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. Constable You must first go yourself to hazard, ere you have them. From camp to camp through the foul womb of night The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fixed 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 face; Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear, and from the tents The armourers, 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-lusty 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!

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 colour Unto the weary and all-watched night, But freshly looks and over-bears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty; That every wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks: A largess universal like the sun His liberal eye doth give to every one, Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all, Behold, as may unworthiness define, A little touch of Harry in the night.

And so our scene must to the battle fly; Where--O for pity! Yet sit and see, Minding true things by what their mockeries be. Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out. For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers, Which is both healthful and good husbandry: Besides, they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should dress us fairly for our end. Thus may we gather honey from the weed, And make a moral of the devil himself. My horse! L'air et la feu. Enter Constable. God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge: If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!

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French Soldier Je pense que vous etes gentilhomme de bonne qualite. Art thou a gentleman? French Soldier O Seigneur Dieu! French Soldier O, prenez misericorde! French Soldier Est-il impossible d'echapper la force de ton bras? Thou damned and luxurious mountain goat, Offer'st me brass? French Soldier O pardonnez moi! Come hither, boy: ask me this slave in French What is his name. Boy Ecoutez: comment etes-vous appele? French Soldier Monsieur le Fer.

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Boy He says his name is Master Fer. I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him: discuss the same in French unto him. Boy I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk. French Soldier Que dit-il, monsieur? Boy Il me commande de vous dire que vous faites vous pret; car ce soldat ici est dispose tout a cette heure de couper votre gorge. French Soldier O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me pardonner!

Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous donnerai deux cents ecus. Boy He prays you to save his life: he is a gentleman of a good house; and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.

French Soldier Petit monsieur, que dit-il? Boy Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun prisonnier, neanmoins, pour les ecus que vous l'avez promis, il est content de vous donner la liberte, le franchisement. French Soldier Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercimens; et je m'estime heureux que je suis tombe entre les mains d'un chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue seigneur d'Angleterre.

Boy He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he esteems himself happy that he hath fallen into the hands of one, as he thinks, the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England.

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Follow me! Boy Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. Reproach and everlasting shame Sits mocking in our plumes.