Act 4 - Scene 2

The French camp.

Enter the DAUPHIN, ORLEANS, RAMBURES, and others

ORLEANS

The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!

DAUPHIN

Montez A cheval! My horse! varlet! laquais! ha!

ORLEANS

O brave spirit!

DAUPHIN

Via! les eaux et la terre.

ORLEANS

Rien puis? L'air et la feu.

DAUPHIN

Ciel, cousin Orleans.

Enter Constable

Now, my lord constable!

Constable

Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh!

DAUPHIN

Mount them, and make incision in their hides,
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And dout them with superfluous courage, ha!

RAMBURES

What, will you have them weep our horses' blood?
How shall we, then, behold their natural tears?

Enter Messenger

Messenger

The English are embattled, you French peers.

Constable

To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!
Do but behold yon poor and starved band,
And your fair show shall suck away their souls,
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.
There is not work enough for all our hands;
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins
To give each naked curtle-axe a stain,
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out,
And sheathe for lack of sport: let us but blow on them,
The vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.
'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords,
That our superfluous