Philip is plumed, and thinks we flee from him,
Else he would never dare to attack us. Now,
Now the quarry's set! and Death doth sport
In the bright sunshine of this fatal day.
Dagworth.
Now my heart dances and I am as light
As the young bridegroom going to be married.
Now must I to my soldiers, get them ready,
Furbish our armours bright, new plume our helms;
And we will sing like the young housewives busied
In the dairy; my feet are wing'd, but not
For flight, an please your grace.
King.
If all my soldiers are as pleased as you,
'Twill be a gallant thing to fight or die;
Then I can never be afraid of Philip.
Dagworth.
A raw-boned fellow t'other day pass'd by me;
I told him to put off his hungry looks—
He answer'd me, "I hunger for another battle."
I saw a little Welshman with a fiery face;
I told him 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
