King. Yes, good Philippa, 'tis our firm decree,
And a full wise one too;—'tis but just recompense,
For near twelve weary months, their stubbornness
Has caused us linger out before their city.
Should we not now resent, in future story
Our English would be chronicled as dullards;—
These French would mock us for the snails of war,
Who bring our houses on our sluggish backs,
To winter it before their mould'ring walls;