e of a time
When creeping murmur and the poring dark
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night
The hum of either army stilly sounds,[1]
That the fix'd sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch:[2]
Fire answers fire;[3] and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd face:[4]
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation.
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty[5] French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;[6]
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away.

_Scene opens and discovers the interior of a French tent, with the
DAUPHIN, the CONSTABLE, ORLEANS, and others, playing at dice._

_Dau._ Will it never be day?

_Con._ I would it were morning; for I would fain be about the ears of
the English.

_Dau._ Who will go to hazard with me for twenty English prisoners?

_Orl._ The prince longs to eat the English.

_Con._ Would it were day! Alas, poor Harry of England! he longs not for
the dawning, as we do.

_Dau._ If the English had any apprehension, they would run away.

_Con._ That island of England breeds very valiant creatures; their
mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.

_Dau._ Foolish curs, that run winking into the mouth of a Russian bear,
and have their heads crushed like rotten apples! You may as well
say,--that's a valiant flea, that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a
lion.

_Con._ Just, just: give them great meals of beef, and iron and steel,
they will eat like wolves, and fight like devils.

_Orl._ Ay, but these English are shrewdly out of beef.

_Con._ Then we shall find to-morrow--they have only stomachs to eat, and
none to fight. Now is it time to arm: Come, shall we about it?

_Dau._ It is now two o'clock: but, let me see,--by ten We shall have
each a hundred Englishmen.

SCENE CLOSES IN.

_Cho._ The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate
The morning's danger; and their gestures sad,
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon
So many horrid ghosts.

[_Scene re-opens,