From his most fam'd of famous ancestors, Exe. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the crown Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it: And therefore in fierce tempest 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 souls, for whom this hungry war Opens his vasty jaws and on your head Turns he the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, The dead men's blood, the pining maidens' groans, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, That shall be swallow'd in this controversy. This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my message; Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom expressly I bring greeting too. Fr. King. For us, we will consider of this further: To-morrow shall you bear our full intent Back to our brother England. Dau. For the Dauphin, I stand here for him; What to him from England ? Exe. Scorn, and defiance; slight regard, con tempt, And any thing that may not misbecome The mighty sender, doth he prize you at. Thus says my king: and, if your father's highness Dau. Say, If my father render fair reply, Nothing but odds with England; to that end, I did present him with those Paris balls. Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe: And, be assur'd, you'll find a difference, (As we, his subjects, 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 shall read In your own losses, if he stay in France. Fr. King. To-morrow, shall you know our mind at full. Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest that our king Come here himself to question our delay; For he is footed in this land already. Fr. King. You shall be soon despatch'd, with fair conditions: A night is but small breath, and little pause, [Exeunt. ACT THE THIRD. Enter CHORUS. 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 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 9 Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow! With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose, the ambassador from the French comes back; Tells Harry-that the king doth offer him Bank or shore. [Exit. • Sterns of the ships. 'The staff which holds the match used in firing 2 Small pieces of ordnance. cannon. SCENE I. 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! But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Let it pry through the portage of the head, 4 O'erhand and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide; 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 you! 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 3 A mole to withstand the encroachment of the tide. 4 Worn, wasted. s Fetched. • Matter, subject. 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, 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 two 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; 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 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, |