Some passages of William Shakespeare’s works are so descriptive, that they feel as though one is actually riding a horse above a French camp near Agincourt.
The Dauphin obviously loved his horse. He was a little concerned about wearing armour at night time.
Flying a horse, trotting the air.
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Excerpt: ACT III Scene VII
The Dauphin:
Ça ha ! he bounds from earth, as if entrails were hairs; le cheval volant, the Pegasus, chez les marines de feu !
When 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.
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Such freedom; flying a beloved horse.
Imagination can lead to reality of heart. A dream comes true. Vivid memories of scent, sounds, and wind flowing past the rider.
To awaken upon a camp near Agincourt.