Act 4, Scene 2 — Henry V — Study Shakespeare

The argument The French lords revel in their overwhelming numbers and mock the exhausted English army before the battle of Agincourt, blind to the catastrophe approaching.

Enter the Dauphin, Orleans, Rambures and others.

ORLEANS

The sun doth gild our armour; up, my lords!

The sun does gild our armour; up, my lords!

the sun does gild our armour; up, my lords!

DAUPHIN

_Monte à cheval!_ My horse, _varlet! laquais_, ha!

ORLEANS

O brave spirit!

DAUPHIN

_Via, les eaux et terre!_

ORLEANS

_Rien puis? L’air et feu?_

DAUPHIN

_Cieux_, cousin Orleans.

"_Cieux_, cousin Orleans" French for 'the skies/heavens.' The exchange parodies the classical four elements (earth, water, air, fire) — the Dauphin is claiming mastery over all creation. The irony is excruciating.

🎭 Dramatic irony The Dauphin claims dominion over water, earth, air, and the heavens themselves — four lines before the battle that will end with him fleeing the field.

Enter Constable.

Now, my Lord Constable!

CONSTABLE

Hark, how our steeds for present service neigh!

DAUPHIN ≋ verse

Mount them, and make incision in their hides,

That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,

And dout them with superfluous courage, ha!

Mount them, and make incision in their hides, That their hot blood may spin in English eyes, And dout them with superfluous courage, ha!

Mount them, and make incision in their hides, That their hot

RAMBURES ≋ verse

What, will you have them weep our horses’ blood?

How shall we, then, behold their natural tears?

What, will you have them weep our horses’ blood? How shall we, then, behold their natural tears?

What, will you have them weep our horses’ blood? How shall w

Enter a Messenger.

MESSENGER

The English are embattl’d, you French peers.

CONSTABLE ≋ verse

To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse!

Do but behold yon poor and starved band,

And your fair show shall suck away their souls,

Leaving them but the shales and husks of men.

There is not work enough for all our hands;

Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins

To give each naked curtle-axe a stain,

That our French gallants shall today draw out,

And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them,

The vapour of our valour will o’erturn them.

’Tis positive ’gainst all exceptions, lords,

That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants,

Who in unnecessary action swarm

About our squares of battle, were enough

To purge this field of such a hilding foe,

Though we upon this mountain’s basis by

Took stand for idle speculation,

But that our honours must not. What’s to say?

A very little little let us do,

And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound

The tucket sonance and the note to mount;

For our approach shall so much dare the field

That England shall crouch down in fear and yield.

To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse! Do but behold yon poor and starved band, And your fair show shall suck away their souls, Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. There is not work enough for all our hands; Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins To give each naked curtle-axe a stain, That our French gallants shall today draw out, And sheathe for lack of sport. Let us but blow on them, The vapour of our valour will o’erturn them. ’Tis positive ’gainst all exceptions, lords, That our superfluous lackeys and our peasants, Who in unnecessary action swarm About our squares of battle, were enough To purge this field of such a hilding foe, Though we upon this mountain’s basis by Took stand for idle speculation, But that our honours must not. What’s to say? A very little little let us do, And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound The tucket sonance and the note to mount; For our approach shall so much dare the field That England shall crouch down in fear and yield.

To horse, you gallant princes! straight to horse! Do but beh

Why it matters The Constable's speech describing the English as already-dead men is the French army's fatal mistake dramatized in verse: they see only the surface — the ragged coats, the drooping horses — and miss the invisible thing Henry gave his men the night before.

↩ Callback to 4-1 The Constable's contemptuous description of the English army as living ghosts and walking corpses is the direct counterpoint to the Chorus's description of Henry walking among his troops in 4-1 — both scenes describe the same exhausted army, and see completely different things.

🎭 Dramatic irony The Constable's elaborate description of the English as already-dead men is the most beautifully wrong thing in the play. Every image of English degradation he catalogues — the drooping horses, the rusty armor, the circling crows — will be reversed within an hour.

Enter Grandpré.

GRANDPRÉ.

Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?

Yond island carrions, desperate of their bones,

Ill-favouredly become the morning field.

Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,

And our air shakes them passing scornfully.

Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar’d host,

And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps;

The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks

With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jades

Lob down their heads, drooping the hides and hips,

The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes,

And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit

Lies foul with chew’d grass, still, and motionless;

And their executors, the knavish crows,

Fly o’er them, all impatient for their hour.

Description cannot suit itself in words

To demonstrate the life of such a battle,

In life so lifeless as it shows itself.

CONSTABLE

They have said their prayers, and they stay for death.

DAUPHIN ≋ verse

Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits

And give their fasting horses provender,

And after fight with them?

Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits And give their fasting horses provender, And after fight with them?

Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits And give their

CONSTABLE ≋ verse

I stay but for my guard; on to the field!

I will the banner from a trumpet take,

And use it for my haste. Come, come, away!

The sun is high, and we outwear the day.

I stay but for my guard; on to the field! I will the banner from a trumpet take, And use it for my haste. Come, come, away! The sun is high, and we outwear the day.

I stay but for my guard; on to the field! I will the banner

[_Exeunt._]

The Reckoning

This is dramatic irony working at maximum pressure. We've just watched the English soldiers, scared and hollow-cheeked, debating whether they'll die well. Now the French are practically already dividing the spoils. Grandpré's speech — describing the English as corpses before the battle begins — is a masterpiece of overconfidence. Every word of contempt is a word the audience knows will not survive the day.

If this happened today…

The night before a major product launch, the dominant market leader is in their company suite uncorking champagne. The VP of Sales is already drafting the press release announcing the competitor's defeat. Someone pulls up the competitor's website on a big screen and everyone jokes about how outdated the tech looks. The marketing guy does a whole presentation about how these guys are basically finished. Nobody in that room mentions that the competitor has one scrappy engineer who's been awake for forty-eight hours and has figured out something nobody expected.

Continue to 4.3 →