Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it:
Therefore in fierce tempeft is he coming,
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove
(That, if requiring fail, he will compel);
And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the crown; and to take mercy
On the poor fouls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vafty jaws and on your head
Turns he the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead men's blood, the pining maidens' groans,
For hufbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That fhall be fwallow'd in this controverfy.
This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message;
Unless the Dauphin be in prefence here,

To whom exprefsly I bring greeting too.

Fr. King. For us, we will confider of this further: To-morrow fhall you bear our full intent Back to our brother of England.

Dau. For the Dauphin,

I ftand here for him; What to him from England?
Exe. Scorn, and defiance; flight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not mifbecome

The mighty fender, doth he prize you at.
Thus fays my king: and, if your father's highness
Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you fent his majefty,
He'll call you to fo hot an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall chide your trefpafs, and return your mock
In fecond accent of his ordnance.

Dau. Say, if my father render fair reply,
It is against my will: for I defire

Nothing but odds with England; to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,
D

I did

34

I did prefent him with thofe Paris balls.

Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe: And, be affur'd, you'll find a difference (As we, his fubjects, have in wonder found), Between the promise of his greener days, And these he masters now; now he weighs time, Even to the utmost grain; which you fhall read In your own loffes, if he ftay in France.

Fr. King. To-morrow fhall you know our mind at full. Exe. Difpatch us with all fpeed, left that our king Come here himself to question our delay; For he is footed in this land already.

Fr. King. You fhall be foon difpatch'd, with fair conditions:

A night is but fmall breath, and little pause,
To anfwer matters of this confequence.

[Exeunt,

ACT III,

Enter CHORUS.

Chorus.

THUS with imagin'd wing our fwift fcene flies,
In motion of no lefs celerity

Than that of thought. Suppofe, that you have feen
The well-appointed king at Hampton-pier

Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With filken ftreamers the young Phoebus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, fhip-boys climbing:
Hear the fhrill whiftle, which doth order give

Το

To founds confus'd: behold the threaden fails,
Borne with the invifible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd feas
Breafting the lofty furge: O, do but think,
You ftand upon the rivage, and behold,
A city on the inconftant billows dancing;
For fo appears this fleet majeftical,

Holding due courfe to Harfleur. Follow, follow!
Grapple your minds to fternage of this navy;
And leave your England, as dead midnight, ftill,
Guarded with grandfires, babies, and old women,
Either past, or not arriv'd to, pith and puiffance:
For who is he, whofe chin is but enrich'd

With one appearing hair, that will not follow

Thefe cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work, your thoughts, and therein fee a fiege:
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,

With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppofe, the ambaffador from the French comes back;
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 linftock 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. [Exit.

SCENE I. Before Harfleur,

Alarums. Enter King HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOSTER, and Soldiers, with fcaling-ladders.

K. Henry. Once more unto the breach, dear friends,

once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace, there's nothing fo becomes a man,
As modeft ftillnefs, and humility:

But when the blaft of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tyger;
Stiffen the finews, fummon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Like the brafs cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it,
As fearfully, as doth a galled rock

O'er-hang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wafteful ocean.
Now fet the teeth, and stretch the noftril wide ;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every fpirit
To his full height !-On, on, you noble English,
Whofe blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers, that, like fo many Alexanders,
Have, in these parts, from morn 'till even fought,
And fheath'd their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers now atteft,

That thofe, whom you call'd fathers, did beget you!
Be copy now to men of groffer blood,

And teach them how to war!-And you, good yeomen, Whofe limbs were made in England, fhew us here The mettle of your pafture; let us fwear

That

you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not; For there is none of you fo mean and bafe, That hath not noble luftre in your eyes. I fee you ftand like greyhounds in the flips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your fpirit: and, upon this charge,

Cry-God for Harry! England! and faint George! [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off.

SCENE

SCENE II. The fame.

Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Boy. Bard. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!

Nym. 'Pray thee, corporal, ftay; the knocks are too hot; and, for mine own part, I have not a cafe of lives the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain-fong of it.

:

Pift. The plain-fong is most juft: for humours do abound;

Knocks go and come; God's vaffals drop and die;
And fword and shield,
In bloody field,

Doth win immortal fame.

Boy. 'Would I were in an ale-houfe in London! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety. Pift. And I:

If wishes would prevail with me,

My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hye.

Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth fing on bough.

Enter FLUELLEN.

Flu. Got's plood!-up to the preaches, you rafcals! will you not up to the preaches?

Pift. Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould! Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage!

Abate thy rage, great duke!

Good bawcock, bate thy rage! ufe lenity, fweet chuck! Nym. These be good humours !-your honour wins bad humours.

D 3

[Exeunt. Boy.