Henry V by William Shakespeare
Act 4 - Scene 2
The French camp.
Duke of Orleans : The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!
Lewis the Dauphin : Montez A cheval! My horse! varlet! laquais! ha!
Duke of Orleans : O brave spirit!
Lewis the Dauphin : Via! les eaux et la terre.
Duke of Orleans : Rien puis? L'air et la feu.
Lewis the Dauphin : Ciel, cousin Orleans.
[p][Enter Constable]
[p]Now, my lord constable!
Constable of France : Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh!
Lewis the Dauphin : Mount them, and make incision in their hides,
[p]That their hot blood
may spin in English eyes,
[p]And dout them with superfluous courage,
ha!
Rambures : What, will you have them weep our horses' blood?
[p]How shall we,
then, behold their natural tears?
Messenger : The English are embattled, you French peers.
Constable of France : To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!
[p]Do but behold yon
poor and starved band,
[p]And your fair show shall suck away their
souls,
[p]Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
[p]There is
not work enough for all our hands;
[p]Scarce blood enough in all their
sickly veins
[p]To give each naked curtle-axe a stain,
[p]That our
French gallants shall to-day draw out,
[p]And sheathe for lack of
sport: let us but blow on them,
[p]The vapour of our valour will
o'erturn them.
[p]'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
[p]That
our superfluous lackeys and our peasants,
[p]Who in unnecessary action
swarm
[p]About our squares of battle, were enow
[p]To purge this field
of such a hilding foe,
[p]Though we upon this mountain's basis
by
[p]Took stand for idle speculation:
[p]But that our honours must
not. What's to say?
[p]A very little little let us do.
[p]And all is
done. Then let the trumpets sound
[p]The tucket sonance and the note
to mount;
[p]For our approach shall so much dare the field
[p]That
England shall couch down in fear and yield.
Grandpre : Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?
[p]Yon island carrions,
desperate of their bones,
[p]Ill-favouredly become the morning
field:
[p]Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
[p]And our air
shakes them passing scornfully:
[p]Big Mars seems bankrupt in their
beggar'd host
[p]And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps:
[p]The
horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks,
[p]With torch-staves in their
hand; and their poor jades
[p]Lob down their heads, dropping the hides
and hips,
[p]The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes
[p]And in
their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit
[p]Lies foul with chew'd grass,
still and motionless;
[p]And their executors, the knavish
crows,
[p]Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.
[p]Description
cannot suit itself in words
[p]To demonstrate the life of such a
battle
[p]In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
Constable of France : They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.
Lewis the Dauphin : Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits
[p]And give their
fasting horses provender,
[p]And after fight with them?
Constable of France : I stay but for my guidon: to the field!
[p]I will the banner from a
trumpet take,
[p]And use it for my haste. Come, come, away!
[p]The sun
is high, and we outwear the day.
Previous: Act 4 - Scene 1
Next: Act 4 - Scene 3
