Pegasus, chez les narines de feu! When I bestride him, I soar, I
am a hawk. he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it;
the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.

ORLEANS.
He's of the colour of the nutmeg.

DAUPHIN.
And of the heat of the ginger. It is a beast for Perseus. He is
pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never
appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts
him. He is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.

CONSTABLE.
Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute and excellent horse.

DAUPHIN.
It is the prince of palfreys; his neigh is like the bidding of a
monarch, and his countenance enforces homage.

ORLEANS.
No more, cousin.

DAUPHIN.
Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the rising of the
lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my
palfrey. It is a theme as fluent as the sea; turn the sands into
eloquent tongues, and my horse is argument for them all. 'Tis
a subject for a sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's
sovereign to ride on; and for the world, familiar to us and