[Exeunt.]
SCENE VII. The French camp, near Agincourt.
Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Rambures, Orleans, Dauphin with others.
CONSTABLE.
Tut! I have the best armour of the world.
Would it were day!
ORLEANS.
You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due.
CONSTABLE.
It is the best horse of Europe.
ORLEANS.
Will it never be morning?
DAUPHIN.
My Lord of Orleans, and my Lord High Constable, you talk of horse and armour?
ORLEANS.
You are as well provided of both as any prince in the world.
DAUPHIN.
What a long night is this! I will not change my horse with any that treads but on four pasterns. Ch’ha! He bounds from the earth, as if his entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a les narines de feu! When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk. He trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.