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Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest that our

king Come here himself to question our delay; For he is footed in this land already. Fr. King. You shall be soon despatch'd, with fair

conditions: A night is but small breath, and little pause, To answer matters of this

consequence. [Ereunt.



Chor. Thus with imagin’d wing our swift scene

flies, In motion of no less celerity Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have seen The well-appointed king at Hampton pier Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet With silken streamers the

Phæbus fanning. Play with your fancies; and in them behold, Upon the hempen tackle, shipboys climbing: Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden sails, Born with the invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, Breasting the lofty surge: 0, do but think, You stand upon the rivage 26, and behold A city on the inconstant billows dancing ; For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy; And leave your England, as dead midnight, still, Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, Either past, or not arriv'd to, pith and puissance : For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd With one appearing hair, that will not follow These cullid and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?


Work, work, your thoughts, and therein see a siege:
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose, the ambassador from the French comes

Tells Harry—that the king doth offer him
Katharine his daughter; and with her, to dowry,
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
With linstock 27 now the devilish cannon touches,

[Alarum; and chambers go off. And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind,



The same. Before Harfleur.

Alarums. Enter King Henry, Exeter, BEDFORD,

GLOSTER, and Soldiers, with scaling ladders.
K. Hen. Once more unto the breach, dear friends,

once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
As modest stillness, and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage:

2 C

Then lend the eye a terrible aspéct;
Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it,
As fearfully, as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base 29,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide:
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height!-On, on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is set from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts, from morn till even fought,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest,
That those, whom you call’d fathers, did beget you!
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war!-And you, good yea-

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt

not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge, Cry-God for Harry! England! and saint George!

[Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off


The same.

Forces pass over; then enter Nym, BARDOLPH,

PISTOL, and Boy.

Bard. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!

Nym. 'Pray thee, corporal, stay; the knocks are too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives: the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain-song of it. Pist. The plain-song is most just; for humours do

abound; Knocks go and come; God's vassals drop and die;

And sword and shield,

In bloody field,

Doth win immortal fame.
Boy. 'Would I were in an alebouse in London!
I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and
Pist. And I:

If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,

But thither would I hie. Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth sing on bough.

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