They bid us—to the English dancing-schools,
And teach lavoltas high[1] and swift corantos;[2]
Saying our grace is only in our heels,
And that we are most lofty runaways.
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:
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our land
With pennons[3] painted in the blood of Harfleur: