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with a red cross on the shoulder, the white-clad ones being Knights Templar. Every man of the 3,000 bore his shield upon his left arm, newly polished and burnished, and on it was his device. ���The Knights were a long time passing. Then came 5,000 Agincourt men-at-arms and they were a long time, and at the very end, last of all, came that intolerable old tun of sack and godless ruffler���Sir John Oldcastle (now risen from the dead for the third time)���fat-faced, purple, with the spirit of bygone and lamented drink, smiling his hospitable, wide smile upon all the world; leering at the women; proclaiming his valorous deeds as fast as he could lie; taking the whole glory of Agincourt to his single self; measuring off the miles of his slain, and then multiplying them by five���seven���ten fifteen, as inspiration after inspiration came to his help; the most inhuman spectacle in England; a living breathing outrage; a slander upon the human race. And after him came Mumming and Blethering, his infamous lieutenants. And after them his ���Paladins,��� as he calls them, the mangiest lot of starvelings and cowards that was ever littered, the disgrace of the noblest pageant that England has ever seen. God bless their souls in the place appointed for all such. ���There was a moment of prayer at the temple, the procession moved down the country road, its way walled on both sides by welcoming multitudes, by Charing Cross, and at last to the Abbey for the great ceremonies. It was a grand day, and will remain in men���s memories.��� HYLAND 11