Then turn your forces from this paltry siege

And stir them up against a mightier task.

England, impatient of your just demands,

Hath put himself in arms: the adverse winds,

Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time

To land his legions all as soon as I;

His marches are expedient to this town,

His forces strong, his soldiers confident.

With him along is come the mother-queen,

An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife;

With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain;

With them a bastard of the king's deceased,

And all the unsettled humours of the land,

Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,

With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens,

Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,

Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,

To make hazard of new fortunes here:

In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits

Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er

Did nearer float upon the swelling tide,

To do offence and scath in Christendom.

The interruption of their churlish drums

Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,

To parley or to fight; therefore prepare.