2167Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour vp, my

2168Lords.

2169Dolph. Monte Cheual: My Horse, Verlot Lacquay:

2170Ha.

2171Orleance. Oh braue Spirit.

2172Dolph. Via les ewes & terre.

2173Orleance. Rien puis le air & feu.

2174Dolph. Cein, Cousin Orleance. Enter Constable.

2175Now my Lord Constable?

2176Const. Hearke how our Steedes, for present Seruice

2177neigh.

2178Dolph. Mount them, and make incision in their Hides,

2179That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,

2180And doubt them with superfluous courage: ha.

2181Ram. What, wil you haue them weep our Horses blood?

2182How shall we then behold their naturall teares?

2184Messeng. The English are embattail'd, you French

2185Peeres.

2186Const. To Horse you gallant Princes, straight to Horse.

2187Doe but behold yond poore and starued Band,

2188And your faire shew shall suck away their Soules,

2189Leauing them but the shales and huskes of men.

2190There is not worke enough for all our hands,

2191Scarce blood enough in all their sickly Veines,

2192To giue each naked Curtleax a stayne,

2193That our French Gallants shall to day draw out,

2194And sheath for lack of sport. Let vs but blow on them,

2195The vapour of our Valour will o're-turne them.

2196'Tis positiue against all exceptions, Lords,

2197That our superfluous Lacquies, and our Pesants,

2198Who in vnnecessarie action swarme

2199About our Squares of Battaile, were enow

2200To purge this field of such a hilding Foe;

2201Though we vpon this Mountaines Basis by,

2202Tooke stand for idle speculation:

2203But that our Honours must not. What's to say?

2204A very little little let vs doe,

2205And all is done: then let the Trumpets sound

2206The Tucket Sonuance, and the Note to mount:

2207For our approach shall so much dare the field,

2208That England shall couch downe in feare, and yeeld.

2210Grandpree. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France?

2211Yond Iland Carrions, desperate of their bones,

2212Ill-fauoredly become the Morning field:

2213Their ragged Curtaines poorely are let loose,

2214And our Ayre shakes them passing scornefully.

2215Bigge Mars seemes banqu'rout in their begger'd Hoast,

2216And faintly through a rustie Beuer peepes.

2217The Horsemen sit like fixed Candlesticks,

2218With Torch-staues in their hand: and their poore Iades

2219Lob downe their heads, dropping the hides and hips:

2220The gumme downe roping from their pale-dead eyes,

2221And in their pale dull mouthes the Iymold Bitt

2222Lyes foule with chaw'd-grasse, still and motionlesse.

2223And their executors, the knauish Crowes,

2224Flye o're them all, impatient for their howre.

2225Description cannot sute it selfe in words,

2226To demonstrate the Life of such a Battaile,

2227In life so liuelesse, as it shewes it selfe.

2228Const. They haue said their prayers,

2229And they stay for death.

2230Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes,

2231And giue their fasting Horses Prouender,

2232And after fight with them?

2233Const. I stay but for my Guard: on

2234To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take,

2235And vse it for my haste. Come, come away,

2236The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day. Exeunt.

2240Glouc. Where is the King?

2241Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Bat-

2242taile.

2243West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thou-

2244sand.

2245Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh.

2246Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes.

2247God buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge:

2248If we no more meet, till we meet in Heauen;

2249Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford,

2250My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,

2251And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu.

2252Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee:

2253And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it,

2254For thou art fram'd of the firme truth of valour.

2255Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day.

2256Bedf. He is as full of Valour as of Kindnesse,

2257Princely in both.

2259West. O that we now had here

2260But one ten thousand of those men in England,

2261That doe no worke to day.

2262King. What's he that wishes so?

2263My Cousin Westmerland. No, my faire Cousin:

2264If we are markt to dye, we are enow

2265To doe our Countrey losse: and if to liue,

2266The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

2267Gods will, I pray thee wish not one man more.

2268By Ioue, I am not couetous for Gold,

2269Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost:

2270It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare;

2271Such outward things dwell not in my desires.

2272But if it be a sinne to couet Honor,

2273I am the most offending Soule aliue.

2274No 'faith, my Couze, wish not a man from England:

2275Gods peace, I would not loose so great an Honor,

2276As one man more me thinkes would share from me,

2277For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish one more:

2278Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoast,

2279That he which hath no stomack to this fight,

2280Let him depart, his Pasport shall be made,

2281And Crownes for Conuoy put into his Purse:

2282We would not dye in that mans companie,

2283That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs.

2284This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian:

2285He that out-liues this day, and comes safe home,

2286Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,

2287And rowse him at the Name of Crispian.

2288He that shall see this day, and liue old age,

2289Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours,

2290And say, to morrow is Saint Crispian.

2291Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres:

2292Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot:

2293But hee'le remember, with aduantages,

2294What feats he did that day. Then shall our Names,

2295Familiar in his mouth as household words,