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

5

With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning:
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 confused; behold the threaden sails,
Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think
You stand upon the rivage and behold
A city on th' inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,

10

15

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 arrived to, pith and puissance;
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow

These cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France ?

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25

Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,

With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.

Suppose th' ambassador 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 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.

Alarum.

SCENE I. France. Before Harfleur.

30

[Exit. 35

Enter KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOU-
CESTER, 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;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

5

Let it pry through the portage of the head

10

Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it

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,

15

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought,

20

And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument:

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war! And you, good yeomen,

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

25

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.

30

Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Boy.

BARD. On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach! NYм. 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. 5

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 alehouse in London! I would 10 give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.

FLU. Up to the preach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions!

[Driving them forward.

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

Abate thy rage, great duke!

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20

Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck! NYм. These be good humours! your honour wins bad humours. [Exeunt all but Boy. 25 Boy. As young as I am, I have observed these 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 30 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 35 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 anything, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for three 40 half-pence. 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. They would have me as familiar with men's pockets as their