| ACT IV SCENE II | The French camp. | |
| | Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and others. | |
| ORLEANS | The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords! | |
| DAUPHIN | Montez A cheval! My horse! varlet! laquais! ha! | |
| ORLEANS | O brave spirit! | |
| DAUPHIN | Via! les eaux et la terre. | 5 |
| ORLEANS | Rien puis? L'air et la feu. | |
| DAUPHIN | Ciel, cousin Orleans. | |
| | Enter Constable | |
| | Now, my lord constable! | |
| Constable | Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh! | |
| DAUPHIN | Mount them, and make incision in their hides, | 10 |
| | That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, | |
| | And dout them with superfluous courage, ha! | |
| RAMBURES | What, will you have them weep our horses' blood? | |
| | How shall we, then, behold their natural tears? | |
| | Enter Messenger | |
| Messenger | The English are embattled, you French peers. | 15 |
| Constable | 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; | 20 |
| | Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins | |
| | To give each naked curtle-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. | 25 |
| | '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, | 30 |
| | 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 | 35 |
| | 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 GRANDPRE | |
| GRANDPRE | Why do you stay so long, my lords of France? | |
| | Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, | 40 |
| | Ill-favouredly 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: | 45 |
| | 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 | 50 |
| | 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 | 55 |
| | In life so lifeless as it shows itself. | |
| Constable | They have said their prayers, and they stay for death. | |
| DAUPHIN | Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits | |
| | And give their fasting horses provender, | |
| | And after fight with them? | 60 |
| Constable | I stay but for my guidon: 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 | |
