7. SCENE VII. The French camp, near Agincourt.
Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the rising of the
lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my
palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as the sea; turn the sands into
eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all. 'Tis
a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's
sovereign to ride on; and for the world, familiar to us and
unknown, to lay apart their particular functions and wonder at
him. I once writ a sonnet in his praise and began thus: "Wonder
I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's mistress.
Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my courser,
for my horse is my mistress.
Your mistress bears well.
Me well; which is the prescript praise and perfection of a
good and particular mistress.
Nay, for methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook
So perhaps did yours.
Mine was not bridled.
O then belike she was old and gentle; and you rode, like a
kern of Ireland, your French hose off, and in your strait
You have good judgment in horsemanship.
Be warn'd by me, then; they that ride so and ride not warily,
fall into foul bogs. I had rather have my horse to my mistress.
I had as lief have my mistress a jade.
I tell thee, Constable, my mistress wears his own hair.
I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a sow to
"Le chien est retourne a son propre vomissement, et la
truie lavee au bourbier." Thou mak'st use of anything.