Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Her. To view the field in safety, and dispose
Her. Of their dead bodies.
Kin. Kin.
Kin. I tell thee truly Herald,
Kin. I know not if the day be ours or no,
Kin. For yet a many of your horsemen peere,
Kin. And gallop ore the field.
Her. Her.
Her. The day is yours.
Kin. Praised be God, and not our strength for it:
Kin. What is this Castle call'd that stands hard by.
Her. They call it Agincourt.
King. King.
King. Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
King. Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.
Flu. Flu.
Flu. Your Grandfather of famous memory (an't please your Maiesty) and your great Vncle Edward the Placke Prince of Wales, as I haue read in the Chronicles, fought a most praue pattle here in France.