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Duke of Exeter, Uncle to the King.

Duke of York, Cousin to the King.

Earls of Salisbury, Westmoreland, and Warwick.

Earl of Cambridge,

Lord SCROOP,

Sir THOMAS GREY,

Conspirators against the King.

Sir THOMAS ERPINGHAM, GOWER, FLUELLEN, Officers in

King Henry's Army.

BATES, COURT, WILLIAMS, Soldiers in the same.

Nym, BardolpH, PISTOL, formerly Servants to Falstaff.

CHARLES, King of France.

LEWIS, the Dauphin.

Dukes of Burgundy, Orleans, and Bourbon.

The Constable of France.

Governor of Harfleur. MONTJOY, a French Herald.

ISABEL, Queen of France.

KATHARINE, Daughter of Charles and Isabel.

QUICKLY, Pistol's Wife, an Hostess.

Lords, Ladies, Officers, French and English Soldiers
Messengers, and Attendants.

The SCENE, at the beginning of the Play, lies in England; but afterwards wholly in France.

Enter CHORUS.

FOR a muse of fìre, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention!

A kingdom for a stage, prìnces to act,
And monarchs to behòld the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and, at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and
fire

Crouch for employment.-Pardon, gentles all,
The flat ùnraised spirit, that hath dar'd,
On this unworthy scaffold, to bring forth
So great an object: Can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O, the very càsques,
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest, in little place, a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.

Suppose, within the girdle of these walls
Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous, narrow ocean parts asunder.
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
Into a thousand parts divide one man,

And make imaginary puissance :

Think, when we talk of horses, that you sèe them
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth :
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times;
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: For the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;

Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

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