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'Twill be a gallant thing to fight or die.
Then I can never be afraid of Philip.
Dagw. A rawbon'd fellow t'other day pass'd by me;
I told him to put off his hungry looks;
He said: ' I hunger for another battle.'
I saw a Welshman with a fiery face:
I told him that he look'd like a candle half
Burn'd out. He answer'd he was 'pig enough
To light another pattle.' Last night beneath
The moon I walk'd abroad when all had pitch'd
Their tents, and all were still:
I heard a blooming youth singing a song
He had compos'd, and at each pause he wip'd
His dropping eyes. The ditty was,—'If he
Return'd victorious he should wed a maiden
Fairer than snow and rich as midsummer.'
Another wept, and wish'd health to his father.
I chid them both, but gave them noble hopes.
These are the minds that glory in the battle,
And leap and dance to hear the trumpet sound.
King. Sir Thomas Dagworth, be thou near our person:
Thy heart is richer than the vales of France;
I will not part with such a man as thou.
If Philip came arm'd in the ribs of death,
And shook his mortal dart against my head,
Thou'dst laugh his fury into nerveless shame!
Go now, for thou art suited to the work,
Throughout the camp; inflame the timorous,
Blow up the sluggish into ardour, and
Confirm the strong with strength, the weak inspire,
And wing their brows with hope and expectation:
Then to our tent return, and meet the Council.
Exit Dagworth.
Prince. Now we are alone, Sir John, I will unburthen
And breathe my hopes into the burning air,
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