To glad you with the tidings.
King. My sweet warrior!
We will dispatch our work here, then for England.
Calais will soon be ours;—of that hereafter.
Think we, to-day, on nought but revelry.
You, madam, shall diffuse your influence
Throughout our camp.—Strike, there, our martial music!
For want of better, good Philippa, take
A soldier's noisy concert. Strike! I say.