PANDULPH. O, Sir, when he shall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts Of all his people shall revolt from him, And kiss the lips of unacquainted change, And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath Out of the bloody fingers' ends of john. Methinks I see this hurly all on foot; And, O, what better matter breeds for you Than I have nam'd! The bastard Faulconbridge Is now in England ransacking the Church, Offending charity; if but a dozen French Were there in arms, they would be as a can To train ten thousand English to their side; Or as a little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, Go with me to the King. 'Tis wonderful What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their souls are topful of offence. For England go; I will whet on the King.

O Sir When He Shall Hear of Your Approach

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1381
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