standing,

Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun,-
Saw his heroical seed, and smil'd to see him,
Mangle the work of nature, and deface

The patterns that by God, and by French fathers,
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem
Of that victorious stock; and let us fear
The native mightiness and fate of him.

Enter a Messenger.
Messenger,
Ambassadors from Harry King of England
Do crave admittance to your majesty.
French King.

We'll give them present audience. Go and bring them.

[Exeunt Messengers and certain Lords. You see, this chase is hotly follow'd, friends. Dauphin.

Turn head, and stop pursuit; for coward dogs Most spend their mouths, when what they seem to threaten

Runs far before them. Good my sovereign,
Take up the English short, and let them know
Of what a monarchy you are the head:
Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin
As self-neglecting.

Re-enter Lords, with Exeter and Train.

Exeter.

Exeter.

Scorn, and defiance, slight regard, contempt, And any thing that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: and, if your father's highDo not, in grant of all demands at large, [ness Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, He'll call you to so hot an answer of it, That caves and womby vaultages of France Shall chide your trespass, and return your mock In second accent of his ordinance. Dauphin.

Say, if my father render fair return,
It is against my will; for I desire
Nothing but odds with England: to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,

I did present him with the Paris balls.
Exeter.

French King,

Exeter.

From him; and thus he greets your majesty. He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, That you divest yourself, and lay apart The borrow'd glories, that by gift of heaven, By law of nature, and of nations, 'long To him, and to his heirs; namely, the crown, And all wide-stretched honours that pertain, By custom and the ordinance of times, [know, Unto the crown of France. That you may 'Tis no sinister, nor no awkward claim, Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd [days, Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd, He sends you this most memorable line, [Gives a pedigree. In every branch truly demonstrative; Willing you overlook this pedigree,

Even to the utmost grain; that you shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France.

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:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
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 confounded 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, yoù noblest En-
glish!

[it,

Whose blood is fet 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
Be copy now to men of grosser blood, [you.
And teach them how to war.-And you, good
yeomen,

Whose limbs were made in England, show us
The mettle of your pasture: let us swear [here
That you are worth your breeding; which 1
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.

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

Enter Flucllen.

Fluellen.

Up to the preach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions! Driving them forward. Pistol.

Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould! Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage; Abate thy rage, great duke! [sweet chuck! Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, Nym.

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

[Exeunt Nym, Pistol, and Bardolph, followed by Fluellen.

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 match'd 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 hal pence. Nym and Burdolph 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. 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 villainy goes against my weak stomach, and therefore I must cast it up. [Exit Boy.

Re-enter Fluellen, Gower following.

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.

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? Fluellen.

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,

Fluellen.

King Henry

How yet resolves the governor of the town?
This is the latest parle we will admit:
Therefore, to our best mercy give yourselves,
Or, like to men proud of destruction,
Defy us to our worst; for, as I am a soldier,
A name that in my thoughts becomes me best,
If I begin the battery once again,

I will not leave the half-achieved Harflour,
Till in her ashes she lie buried.
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up;
And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand shall range
With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass
Your fresh-fair virgins, and your flowering
What is it then to me, if impious war, [infants.
Arrayed in flames like to the prince of fiends,
Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats
Enlink'd to waste and desolation?
What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause,
If your pure maidens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing violation?

[fleur,

What rein can hold licentious wickedness,
When down the hill he holds his fierce career?
We may as bootless spend our vain command
Upon th' 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
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds
Of heady murder, spoil, and villainy.
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 infan's spitted upon pikes, [fus'd

Whiles the mad mothers with their howls con-
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?
Governor.

Our expectation hath this day an end.
The Dauphin, whom of succour we entreated,
Returns us that his powers are yet not ready
To raise so great a siege. Therefore, great 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.

King Henry.

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 will 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. Katharine.

Alice, tu as esté en Angleterre, et tu parles bien le langage.

Un рси, madame.

Alice.

Katharine.

Je te prie, m'enseigniez; il faut que j'ap. prenne à parler. Comment appellez vous la main, en Anglois ? Alice.

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

De hand. Et les doigts?

Alice.

Dieu de battailes! where have they this metIs not their climate foggy, raw, and dull, [tle? On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden water,

A drench for sur-rein'd jades, their barley broth,
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat?
And shall our quick blood, spirited with wine,
Seem frosty? O! for honour of our land,
Let us not hang like roping icicles [people
Upon our houses' thatch, whiles a more frosty
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields,
Poor we may call them, in their native lords.
Dauphin.

By faith and honour,
Our madams mock at us, and plainly say,
Our mettle is bred out; and they will give
Their bodies to the lust of English youth,
To new-store France with bastard warriors.

Bourbon.

They bid us to the English dancing-schools, And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos;

Saying, our grace is only in our heels, And that we are most lofty runaways. French King.

Where is Mountjoy, the herald? speed him

hence:

Let him greet England with our sharp defiance.-
Up princes! and, with spirit of honour, edg'd
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field.
Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France;
You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry,
Alençon, Brabant, Bar, and Burgundy;
Jaques Chatillon, Rambures, laudemont,
Beaumont, Grandpré, Roussi, and Fauconberg,
Foix, Lestrale, Bouciqualt, and Charolois,
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and
knights,
[shames.
For your great seats, now quit you of great
Bar Harry England, that sweeps through our
land
With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur:
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow
Upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon.
Go, down upon him,-you have power enough,—
And in a captive chariot into Rouen
Bring him our prisoner.

Constable.

This becomes the great. Sorry am I, his numbers are so few, His soldiers sick, and famish'd in their march, For, I am sure, when he shall see our army, He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear, And for achievement offer us his ransom. French King.

Therefore, lord constable, haste on Mountjoy, And let him say to England, that we send To know what willing ransom he will give. Prince Dauphin, you shall stay with us in Rouen. Dauphin.

Not So, I do beseech your majesty.

Is the duke of Exeter safe?
Fluellen.

The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon; and a man that I love and honour with my soul, and my heart, and my duty, and he is not (God be praised, and plessed!) any my life, and my living, and my uttermost power: hurt in the world; but keeps the pridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is a lieutenant there at the pridge, I think, in my very conscience, he is as valiant a man as Mark Antony, and he is a man of no estimation in the world; but I did see him do as gallant service.

Gower. What do you call him? Fluellen.

He is called ancient Pistol.

Gower.