Const.
Tut I haue the best armour in the world.

Orleance.
You haue an excellent armour,
But let my horse haue his due.

Burbon.
Now you talke of a horse, I haue a steed like the
Palfrey of the sun, nothing but pure ayre and fire,
And hath none of this dull element of earth within him.

Orleance.
He is of the colour of the Nutmeg.

Bur.
And of the heate, a the ^note Ginger.
Turne all the sands into eloquent tongues,
And my horse is argument for them all:
I once writ a Sonnet in the praise ^note of my horse,
And began thus. Wonder of nature.

Con.
I haue heard a Sonnet begin so,

In the praise of ones Mistresse.

Burb.
Why then did they immitate that
Which I writ in praise of my horse,
For my horse is my mistresse.

Con.
Ma foy the other day, me thought
Your mistresse shooke you shrewdly.

Bur.
I bearing me. I tell thee Lord Constable,
My mistresse weares her owne haire.

Con.
I could make as good a boast of that,
If I had had ^note a sow to my mistresse.

Bur.
Tut thou wilt make vse of any thing.

Con.
Yet I do not vse my horse for my mistresse.

Bur.
Will it neuer be morning?
Ile ride too morrow a mile,
And my way shalbe paued with English faces.

Con.
By my faith so will not I,
For feare I be outfaced of my way.

Bur.
Well ile go arme my selfe, hay.

Gebon.
The Duke of Burbon longs for morning

Or.
I he longs to eate the English.

Con.
I thinke heele eate all he killes.

Orle.
O peace, ill will neuer said well.

Con.
Ile cap that prouerbe,
With there is ^note flattery in friendship.

Or.
O sir, I can answere that,
With giue the diuel his due.

Con.
Haue at the eye of that prouerbe,
With a Iogge of the diuel.

Or.
Well the Duke of Burbon, is simply,
The most actiue Gentleman of France.

Con.
Doing his actiuitie, and heele stil be doing.

Or.
He neuer did hurt as I heard off.

Con.
No I warrant you, nor neuer will.

Or.
I hold him to be exceeding valiant.

Con.
I was told so by one that knows him better th&ebar; you.

Or.
Whose that?

Con.
Why he told me so himselfe:
And said he cared not who knew it.

Or.
Well who will go with me to hazard,
For a hundred English prisoners?

Con.
You must go to hazard your selfe,
Before you haue them.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess.
My Lords, the English lye within a hundred
Paces of your Tent.

Con.
Who hath measured the ground?

Mess.
The Lord Granpeere.

Con.
A valiant man, a. ^note an expert Gentleman.
Come, come away:
The Sun is hie, and we weare out the day. [Exit omnes.

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