[Scene 13]
Enter the four French lords[, Gebon, Orléans, Bourbon, and the Constable].
O diable!
Mort de ma vie!
Oh, what a day is this!
Aujourd'hui haute. All is gone; all is lost.
We are enough yet living in the field
To smother up the English,
2480If any order might be thought upon.
A plague of order! Once more to the field,
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go home and, with his cap in hand
Like a base leno, hold the chamber door,
Whilst by a slave no gentler than my dog,
2475His fairest daughter is contaminate.
Disorder that hath spoiled us, right us now.
Come we: in heaps we'll offer up our lives
2477.1Unto these English, or else die with fame.
Come, come along,
Let's die with honor; our shame doth last too long.
Exeunt omnes.