Chor. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies,

In motion of no less celerity
[seen
Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet [ning.
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fan-
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing:
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden sails,
Borne 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, and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, fol-
[low!
Grapple your minds to sternaget of this navy;
And leave your England, as dead midnight,
still,
[men,
Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old wo-
Either past, or not arriv'd to, pith and puis-

sance:

For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd With one appearing hair, that will not follow These cull'd and choise-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 back;

Tells Harry-that the king doth offer him

[it,

Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm
As fearfully, as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty* his confoundedt base,
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 fett from fathers of war-proof! Have, in these parts, from morn till even Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, fought,

And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument,§

That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beDishonour not your mothers; now attest, get you!

yeomen,

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war!-And you, good
Whose limbs were made in England, show us
There
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,
Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot;
Cry-God for Harry! England! and Saint
George!

[Exeunt. Alarum, and Chambers go of.

SCENE II.-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;

[die;

dowry,

Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.

The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner With linstock 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.-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:

And sword and shield,

In bloody field,

Doth win immortal fame.

Boy. 'Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety.

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.

Enter FLUELLEN.

Flu. Got's blood!-Up to the preaches, you rascals! will you not up to the preaches? [Driving them forward. Pist. 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! use lenity,
sweet chuck!

Nym. These be good humours!-your honour wins bad humours.

[Exeunt NYM, PISTOL, and BARDOLPH, followed by FLUELLEN.

Boy. As young as I am, I have observed three swashers. I am boy to them all three: but all they three, though they would serve me, could not be man to me; for, indeed, three such antics do not amount to a man. For Bardolph, he is white-livered, and red-faced; by the means whereof, 'a faces it out, but fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue, and a quiet sword; by the means whereof 'a breaks words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath heard, that men of few words are the best men; and therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest 'a should be thought a coward: but his few bad words are matched with as few good deeds; for 'a never broke any man's head but his own; and that was against a post, when he was drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it,-purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case; bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three halfpence. Nym, and Bardolph, are sworn brothers in filching; and in Calais they stole a fire-shovel : I knew, by that piece of service, the men would carry coals.t They would have me as familiar with men's pockets, as their gloves or their handkerchiefs: which makes much against my manhood, if I should take from another's pocket, to put into mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must leave them, and seek some better service: their villany goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. [Exit Boy.

Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following. Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the mines; the duke of Gloster would speak with you.

Flu. To the mines! tell you the duke, it is not so good to come to the mines: For, look you, the mines is not according to the disciplines of the war; the concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you, th' athversary (you may discuss unto the duke, look you,) is dight himself four yards under the countermines: by Cheshu, I think, 'a will plow up all, if there is not better directions.

Gow. The duke of Gloster, to whom the order of the siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irishman; a very valiant gentleman, i'faith.

Flu. It is captain Macmorris, is it not?
Gow. I think, it be.

Flu. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the 'orld: I will verify as much in his peard: he has no more directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.

Enter MACMORRIS and JAMY, at a distance. Gow. Here 'a comes; and the Scots captain, captain Jamy, with him.

Flu. Captain Jamy is a marvellous falorous gentleman, that is certain; and of great expedition, and knowledge, in the ancient wars, upon my particular knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu, he will maintain his argument as well as any military man in the 'orld, in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the Romans.

Jamy. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellen. Flu. God-den to your worship, goot captain Jamy.

Bravest + Pocket affronts. Digged. Blow

Gow. How, now, captain Macmorris? have you quit the mines? have the pioneers given o'er?

Mac. By Chrish la, tish ill done: the work ish give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. By my hand, I swear, and by my father's soul, the work ish ill done; it ish give over: I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la, in an hour. O, tish ill done, tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done!

Flu. Captain Macmorris, I peseech you now, will you voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you, as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument, look you, and friendly communication; partly, to satisfy my opinion, and partly, for the satisfaction, look you, of my mind, as touching the direction the military discipline; that is the point. Jamy. It sail be very gud, gud feith, gud captains baith: and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occasion; that sall I, marry.

Mac. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me, the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the king, and the dukes; it is no time to discourse. The town is beseeched, and the trumpet calls us to the breach; and we talk, and, by Chrish, do nothing; 'tis shame for us all: so God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still; it is shame, by my hand: and there is throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la.

Jamy. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine tak themselves to slumber, aile do gude ser vice, or aile ligge i'the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and aile pay it as valorously as I may, that sall I surely do, that is the breff and the long: Marry, I wad full fain heard some question 'tween you tway.

Flu. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your correction, there is not many of your nation

Mac. Of my nation? What ish my nation? ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal? What ish my nation? Who talks of my nation?

Flu. Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is meant, captain Macmorris, peradventure, I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you; being as goot a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of wars, and in the derivation of my birth, and in other particularities.

Mac. I do not know you so good a man as myself: so Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.

Gow. Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other. Jamy. Au! that's a foul fault. [A Parley sounded. Gow. The town sounds a parley.

Flu. Captain Macmorris, when there is more better opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so bold as to tell you, I know the dis ciplines of war; and there is an end. [Exeunt, SCENE III.-The same.-Before the Gates & Harfleur.

The GOVERNOR and some Citizens on the Walls; the English Forces below. Enter King HEN and his Train.

K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor o the town?

This is the latest parle we will admit: Therefore, to our best mercy give yourselves

*Requite, answer.

What is it then to me, if impious war,-
Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends,-
Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fellt
Enlink'd to waste and desolation? [feats
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure maidens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing violation?
What rein can hold licentious wickedness,
When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootless spend our vain command
Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil,
As send precepts to the Leviathan
To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Har-
Take pity of your town, and of your people,
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command;
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of

grace

[fleur,

O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of deadly murder, spoil, and villany.
If not, why, in a moment, look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daugh-
Your fathers taken by the silver beards, [ters;
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the
walls;

Your naked infants spitted upon pikes;
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls

confus'd

Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? will you yield, and this avoid? Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?

Gov. Our expectation hath this day an end:

The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated, Returns us-that his powers are not yet ready To raise so great a siege. Therefore, dread king,

We yield our town, and lives, to thy soft mercy:

Enter our gates; dispose of us, and ours;
For we no longer are defensible.

K. Hen. Open your gates.-Come, uncle
Exeter,

Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain,
And fortify it strongly 'gainst the French:
Use mercy to them all. For us, dear uncle,-
The winter coming on, and sickness growing
Upon our soldiers,-we'll retire to Calais.
To-night in Harfleur will we be your guest;
To-morrow for the march are we addrest.

[Flourish. The King, &c. enter the Town. SCENE IV.-Rouen.-A Room in the Palace. Enter KATHARINE and ALICE.

gres.

Kath. La main, de hand; les doigts, de fingres. Je pense, que je suis le bon escolier J'ay gagné deux mots d'Anglois vistement. Com ment appellez vous les ongles?

Alice. Les ongles? les appellons, de nails.
Kath. De nails. Escoutez; dites moy, si je
parle bien: de hand, de fingres, de nails.
Alice. C'est bien dit, madume; il est fort bon
Anglois.

Kath. Dites moy en Anglois, le bras.
Alice. De arm, madame.
Kath. Et le coude?
Alice. De elbow.

Kath. De sin. Le col, de neck: le menton, de sin.

Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur: en verité, rous prononces les mots aussi droict que les natifs d'Angleterre.

Kath. Je ne doute point d'apprendre par la grace de Dieu; et en peu de temps. Alice. N'avez vous pas deja oublié ce que je vous ay enseignée?

Kath. Non, je reciteray vous promptement. De hand de fingre, de mails,— Alice. De nails, madame.

Kath. De nails, de arme, de ilbow. Alice. Sauf vostre honneur, de elbow. Kath. Ainsi dis je; de elbow, de neck, et de sin: Comment appellez vous le pieds et la robe? Alice. De foot, madame; et de con.

Kath. De foot, et de con? O Seigneur Dieu! ces sont mots de son mauvais, corruptible, grosse, et impudique, et non pour les dames d'honneur d'user: Je ne voudrois prononcer ces mots devant les Seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde. Il faut de foot, et de con, neant-moins. Je reciterai une autre fois ma leçon ensemble: De hand, de fingre, de nails, de arm, de elbow, de neck, de sin, de foot, de con. Alice. Excellent, mudume!

Kath. C'est assez pour une fois; allons nous a disner. [Exeunt. SCENE V.-The samc.-Another Room in the

same.

Enter the French KING, the DAUPHIN, Duke of BOURBON, the CONSTABLE of France, and others. Fr. King. "Tis certain, he hath pass'd the river Some.

Con. And if he be not fought withal, my lord,

Alice. Un peu madame.

Kath. Je te prie, m'enseigneuz; il faut que j'apprenne à parler. Comment appellez vous la main, en Anglois?

Alice. La main? elle est appellée, de hand.

* Sofied. + Cruel. Without success. Prepared,

And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. Dau. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,

The emptying of our father's luxury,*
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,
And overlook their grafters?

* Luft.

Flu. It is well.

Pist. The fig of Spain!

Flu. I'll assure you, 'a utter'd as prave 'ords at the pridge, as you shall see in a summer's day: But it is very well; what he has spoke to me, that is well, I warrant you, when time is

serve.

Gow. Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue; that now and then goes to the wars, to grace himself, at his return into London, under the form of a soldier. And such fellows are perfect in great commanders' names: and they will learn you by rote, where services were done;-at such and such a sconce,* at such a breach, at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly in the phrase of war, which they trick up with newtuned oaths: And what a beard of the general's cut, and a horrid suit of the camp, will do among foaming bottles, and ale-washed wits, is wonderful to be thought on! but you must learn to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be marvellous mistook.

Flu. Í tell you what, captain Gower;-I do perceive, he is not the man that he would gladly make show to the 'orld he is; if I find a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind. [Drum heard.] Hark you, the king is coming; and I must speak with him from the pridge.

Enter King HENRY, GLOSTER, and Soldiers. Flu. Got pless your majesty!

K. Hen. How now, Fluellen? camest thou from the bridge?

Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the pridge: the French is gone off, look you; and there is gallant and most prave passages: Marry, th'athversary was have possession of the pridge; but he is enforced to retire, and the duke of Exeter is master of the pridge: I can tell your majesty, the duke is a prave man. K. Hen. What men have you lost, Fluellen? Flu. The perdition of th'athversary hath been very great, very reasonable great: marry, for my part, I think the duke hath lost never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your majesty know the man: his face is all bubukles, and whelks, and knobs, and flames of fire; and his lips plows at his nose, and it is like a coal of fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes red; but his nose is executed, and his fire's out.

K. Hen. We would have all such offenders so cut off:-and we give express charge, that in our marches through the country, there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but paid for; none of the French upraided, or abused in disdainful language; For when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner.

Tucket sounds. Enter MONTJOY. Mont. You know me by my habit.+

voice is imperial: England shall repent his folly, see his weakness, and admire our sufferance. Bid him, therefore, consider of his ransom; which must proportion the losses we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the disgrace we have digested; which, in weight to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. For our losses, his exchequer is too poor; for the effusion of our blood, the muster of his kingdom too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his own person kneeling at our feet, but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To this add-defiance: and tell him, for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounced. So far my king and master; so much my office.

K. Hen. What is thy name? I know thy quality.

Mont. Montjoy.

K. Hen. Thou dost thy office fairly. Turn thee back,

And tell thy king,-I do not seek him now;
But could be willing to march on to Calais
Without impeachment:† for, to say the sooth,
(Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,)
My people are with sickness much enfeebled;
My numbers lessen'd; and those few I have,
Almost no better than so many French;
Who when they were in health, I tell thee,
herald,

I thought, upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen.-Yet, forgive
me, God,

That I do brag thus!-this your air of France
Hath blown that vice in me; I must repent.
Go, therefore, tell thy master, here I am;
My ransom, is this frail and worthless trunk;
My army, but a weak and sickly guard;
Yet, God before, tell him we will come on,
Though France himself, and such another
neighbour,
[Montjoy.
Stand in our way. There's for thy labour,
Go, bid thy master well advise himself:
If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder'd,
We will your tawny ground with your red

blood

Discolour: and so, Montjoy, fare you well.
The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle, as we are;
Nor, as we are, we say, we will not shun it;
So tell your master.

Mont. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your
highness.
[Exit MONTJOY.
Glo. I hope, they will not come upon us

now.

shall I know of thee?

Mont. My master's mind.

K. Hen. Unfold it.

Mont. Thus says my king:-Say thou to Harry of England, Though we seemed dead,

An intrenchment hastily thrown up.

I. e. By his herald's coat.

BURES, the Duke of ORLEANS, DAUPHIN, and others.

Con. Tut! I have the best armour the world.-'Would, it were day!