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Con. I will cap that proverb with~there is flattery in friendship
Orl. And I will take up that with-give the devil his due.
Con. Well placed: there stands your friend for the devil: have at the very eye of that proverb, with—a pox of the devil.
Orl. You are the better at proverbs, by how mucha fool's bolt is soon shot.
Con. You have shot over.
Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord high constable, the English lie within fifteen hundred
tents. Con. Who hath measured the ground? Mess. The lord Grandpré.
Con. A valiant and most expert gentleman.- Would it were day !- Alas, poor Harry of England he longs not for the dawning, as we do.
Orl. What a wretched and peevish fellow is this king of England, to mope with his fat-brained followers so far out of his knowledge.
Con. If the English had any apprehension, they would run away.
Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had any intellectual armour, they could never wear such heavy head-pieces.
Ram. That island of England breeds very valiant creatures: their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
Orl. Foolish curs ! that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their heads crushed like rotten apples. You may as well say, that's a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.
Con. Just, just; and the men do sympathize with
PEEVISH fellow-] 1. e. silly, foolish fellow. See Vol. ii. p. 130. 162 ; and Vol. iii. p. 348 ; and this Vol. p. 286.
the mastiffs in robustious and rough coming on, leaving their wits with their wives : and, then, give them great meals of beef, and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves, and fight like devils.
Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.
Con. Then shall we find to-morrow they have only stomachs to eat, and none to fight. Now is it time to arm: come, shall we about it?
Orl. It is now two o'clock: but, let me see, by ten, We shall have each a hundred Englishmen.
Chor. Now entertain conjecture of a time, When creeping murmur, and the poring dark, Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch : Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umber'd face: Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents, The armourers, accomplishing the knights, With busy hammers closing rivets up, Give dreadful note of preparation. The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, And the third hour of drowsy morning name'. Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
of drowsy morning NAME.] The folio reads nam'd. The error was corrected by Tyrwhitt.
The confident and over-lusty French
& PRESENTETH them-] The folio, presented.
The English Camp at Agincourt.
Enter King HENRY, BEDFORD, and GLOSTER.
Good morrow, old sir Thomas Erpingham :
Erp. Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better,
Do my good morrow to them; and, anon,
[Exeunt GLOSTER and BEDFORD. Erp. Shall I attend your grace? K. Hen.
No, my good knight ; Go with my brothers to my lords of England: I and my bosom must debate a while, And, then, I would no other company. Erp. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble Harry!
[Exit ERPINGHAM. K. Hen. God-a-mercy, old heart ! thou speak’st
Pist. Discuss unto me; art thou officer?
K. Hen. I am a gentleman of a company.
What are you?
Pist. The king's a bawcock, and a heart of gold,
K. Hen. Harry le Roy.
K. Hen. No, I am a Welshman.
Pist. Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his pate,