SCENE II. The French camp.

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 to-day 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 enow
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 couch down in fear and yield.

Enter GRANDPRE

GRANDPRE

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

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

Constable

I stay but for my guidon: 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.

Exeunt

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Moby Dick Year: 2006 ...whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul...then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. --Chapter I, Moby Dick

Ahoy Mates! We're happy to announce that 2006 is the year of Moby Dick. Join us before the mast!

For more information, please check out Moby Dick or email Drake. Free downloadable copies are available at Moby Dick, and we hope that ye join us in discussing the novel at the Moby Dick Campfire. Invite yer friends!

We would like to unite the world in reading what is perhaps the greatest work of fiction ever penned on the American shores. Written in the rich context of Shakespeare and the Bible, Moby Dick was Herman Melville's definitive masterpiece. If you've already read the epic, we invite you to read it again. And be sure to pick up Hamlet and the Bible throughout November, as the novel shall only be enhanced by the deeper context.

The White Whale, symbolic of the truth and freedom which the greatest spirits in Western Civilization have ever pursued, yet swims free.

Concerning Moby Dick, Melville wrote, "It ... is of the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hausers. A Polar wind blows through it, & birds of prey hover over it. Warn all gentle fastidious people from so much as peeping into the book..."

Moby Dick was the first "Great Book" posted at jollyroger.com, over six years ago, and Melville's masterpiece has inspired a lot of our poetry and prose. Check out Drake's new film at Moby Dick Film and Moby Dick.

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