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