That our French heads ached sorely for it:—thence,
Marching through Picardy, to Calais here,
They have engirded us; fix'd the dull tourniquet
Of war upon our town; constraining, thus,
The life blood of our commerce, with fair France,
Of whom we are a limb; and all this openly:—
And, therefore, as an open foe, who think
And strike in the same breath, I do esteem
Their valour, and their plainness.
I view them with a most respectful hatred.