King. 'Tis certaine he hath past the Riuer Some

Const. And if he be not fought withall, my Lord, Let vs not liue in France: let vs quit all, And giue our Vineyards to a barbarous People

Dolph. O Dieu viuant: Shall a few Sprayes of vs, The emptying of our Fathers Luxurie, Our Syens, put in wilde and sauage Stock, Spirt vp so suddenly into the Clouds, And ouer-looke their Grafters? Brit. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards: Mort du ma vie, if they march along Vnfought withall, but I will sell my Dukedome, To buy a slobbry and a durtie Farme In that nooke-shotten Ile of Albion

Const. Dieu de Battailes, where haue they this mettell? Is not their Clymate foggy, raw, and dull? On whom, as in despight, the Sunne lookes pale, Killing their Fruit with frownes. Can sodden Water, A Drench for sur-reyn'd Iades, their Barly broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? And shall our quick blood, spirited with Wine, Seeme frostie? O, for honor of our Land, Let vs not hang like roping Isyckles Vpon our Houses Thatch, whiles a more frostie People Sweat drops of gallant Youth in our rich fields: Poore we call them, in their Natiue Lords

Dolphin. By Faith and Honor, Our Madames mock at vs, and plainely say, Our Mettell is bred out, and they will giue Their bodyes to the Lust of English Youth, To new-store France with Bastard Warriors

Brit. They bid vs to the English Dancing-Schooles, And teach Lauolta's high, and swift Carranto's, Saying, our Grace is onely in our Heeles, And that we are most loftie Run-awayes

King. Where is Montioy the Herald? speed him hence, Let him greet England with our sharpe defiance. Vp Princes, and with spirit of Honor edged, More sharper then your Swords, high to the field: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France, You Dukes of Orleance, Burbon, and of Berry, Alanson, Brabant, Bar, and Burgonie, Iaques Chattillion, Rambures, Vandemont, Beumont, Grand Pree, Roussi, and Faulconbridge, Loys, Lestrale, Bouciquall, and Charaloyes, High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords, and Kings; For your great Seats, now quit you of great shames: Barre Harry England, that sweepes through our Land With Penons painted in the blood of Harflew: Rush on his Hoast, as doth the melted Snow Vpon the Valleyes, whose low Vassall Seat, The Alpes doth spit, and void his rhewme vpon. Goe downe vpon him, you haue Power enough, And in a Captiue Chariot, into Roan Bring him our Prisoner

Const. This becomes the Great. Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His Souldiers sick, and famisht in their March: For I am sure, when he shall see our Army, Hee'le drop his heart into the sinck of feare, And for atchieuement, offer vs his Ransome

King. Therefore Lord Constable, hast on Montioy, And let him say to England, that we send, To know what willing Ransome he will giue. Prince Dolphin, you shall stay with vs in Roan

Dolph. Not so, I doe beseech your Maiestie

King. Be patient, for you shall remaine with vs. Now forth Lord Constable, and Princes all, And quickly bring vs word of Englands fall.


Enter Captaines, English and Welch, Gower and Fluellen.

Gower. How now Captaine Fluellen, come you from the Bridge? Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent Seruices committed at the Bridge

Gower. Is the Duke of Exeter safe? Flu. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon, and a man that I loue and honour with my soule, and my heart, and my dutie, and my liue, and my liuing, and my vttermost power. He is not, God be praysed and blessed, any hurt in the World, but keepes the Bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the Pridge, I thinke in my very conscience hee is as valiant a man as Marke Anthony, and hee is a man of no estimation in the World, but I did see him doe as gallant seruice

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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