The Life of King Henry the Fifth

too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person
kneeling
at our feet but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this
add
defiance; and tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his
followers, whose condemnation is pronounc'd. So far my king
and
master; so much my office.
KING HENRY. What is thy name? I know thy quality.
MONTJOY. Montjoy.
KING HENRY. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back,
And tell thy king I do not seek him now,
But could be willing to march on to Calais
Without impeachment; for, to say the sooth-
Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage-
My people are with sickness much enfeebled;
My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have
Almost no better than so many French;
Who when they were in health, I tell thee, herald,
I thought upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me, God,
That I do brag thus; this your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy master here I am;
My ransom is this frail and worthless trunk;
My army but a weak and sickly guard;
Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself and such another neighbour
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour, Montjoy.
Go, bid thy master well advise himself.
If we may pass, we will; if we be hind'red,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour; and so, Montjoy, fare you well.
The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle as we are;
Nor as we are, we say, we will not shun it.
So tell your master.
MONTJOY. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your Highness. Exit
GLOUCESTER. I hope they will not come upon us now.
KING HENRY. We are in God's hand, brother, not in theirs.
March to the bridge, it now draws toward night;
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves,
And on to-morrow bid them march away. Exeunt

SCENE VII. The French camp near Agincourt

Enter the CONSTABLE OF FRANCE, the LORD RAMBURES, the DUKE OF ORLEANS, the DAUPHIN, with others

CONSTABLE. Tut! I have the best armour of the world.
Would it were day!
ORLEANS. You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have
his
due.
CONSTABLE. It is the best horse of Europe.
ORLEANS. Will it never be morning?
DAUPHIN. My Lord of Orleans and my Lord High Constable, you
talk of
horse and armour?
ORLEANS. You are as well provided of both as any prince in the
world.
DAUPHIN. What a long night is this! I will not change my horse
with
any that treads but on four pasterns. Ca, ha! he bounds from
the
earth as if his entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the
Pegasus, chez les narines de feu! 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.
ORLEANS. He's of the colour of the nutmeg.
DAUPHIN. And of the heat of the ginger. 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. It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the
bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.
ORLEANS. No more, cousin.
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. I once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus:
'Wonder