SCENE V.
Presence-chamber in the French court.
Enter the king of France, the Dauphin, duke of Bourbon, the Constable of France, and others.
Fr. King.
'Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river Some.
Con.
And if he be not fought withal, my lord,
Let us not live in France; let us quit all,
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.
Dau.
O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,—
The emptying of 1 noteour father's luxury,—
Our syens, put in wild 2 noteand savage stock,
Sprout up so suddenly into the clouds,
And over-grow their grafters? 9Q0786
Bour.
Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!
Mort de ma vie! if thus they march along
Unfought withal, but I will sell my dukedom,
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm
-- 81 --
4 noteIn that nook-shotten isle of Albion.
Con.
Dieu de batailles! where have they this mettle?
Is not their climate foggy, raw, and dull?
On whom, as in despight, the sun looks pale,
Killing their fruit with frowns? 5 note
Can sodden water,
A drench for sur-reyn'd jades, their barley broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? Oh, for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles
Upon the houses' thatch 9Q0787, whiles a more frosty people
Sweat drops of gallant youth 9Q0788 in our rich fields;
Poor—we may call them, 9Q0789 in their native lords.
Dau.
By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us; and plainly say,
Our mettle is bred out; and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth,
To new store France with bastard warriors.
Bour.
They bid us—to the English dancing-schools,
And teach 6 note
lavoltas high, and swift corantos;
-- 82 --
Saying, our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty run-aways.
Fr. King.
Where is Montjoy, the herald? speed him hence;
Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.—
Up, princes; and, with spirit of honour edg'd,
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field:
7 note
Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France;
You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry,
Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques Chatillion, Rambures, Vaudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois;
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and knights,
For your great seats, now quit you of great shames.
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
8 note
With pennons painted in the blood of Harsleur:
-- 83 --
Rush on his host, as doth the 9 notemelted snow
Upon the vallies; whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon1 note
:
Go down upon him,—you have power enough,—
And in a captive chariot, into Roan
Bring him our prisoner.
Con.
This becomes the great.
Sorry am I, his numbers are so few,
His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march;
For, I am sure, when he shall see our army,
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear,
And, for atchievement, offer us his ransom.
-- 84 --
Fr. King.
Therefore, lord constable, haste on Mont-joy;
And let him say to England, that we send
To know what willing ransom he will give.—
Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Roan.
Dau.
Not so, I do beseech your majesty.
Fr. King.
Be patient, for you shall remain with us.—
Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all;
And quickly bring us word of England's fall.
[Exeunt.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
