Unto the Crown of France. That you may know, 'Tis no finifter nor no aukward claim,

Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd days,
Nor from the duft of old oblivion rak'd;
He fends you this most memorable Line,
In every branch truly demonstrative,

[Gives the French King a Paper.

Willing you over-look this pedigree;
And when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his most fam'd of famous ancestors,
Edward the Third; he bids you then refign
Your Crown and Kingdom, indirectly held
From him the native and true challenger.
Fr. King. Or elfe what follows?

Exe. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the Crown
Ev'n in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
And therefore in fierce tempeft is he coming,
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove:
That, if requiring fail, he may compel.
He bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the Crown; and to take mercy
On the poor fouls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vafty jaws; upon your head
Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead mens' blood, the pining maidens' groans,
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That shall be swallow'd in this controverfie.
This is his claim, his threatning, and my meffage;
Unless the Dauphin be in prefence here,

To whom exprefly I bring Greeting too.

Fr. King. For us, we will confider of this further: To morrow fhall 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, flight regard, contempt, And any thing that may not mif-become

A a 2

The

The mighty fender, doth he prize you at.
Thus fays my King; and if your father's Highness
Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you fent his Majesty;
He'll call you to fo hot an anfwer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall chide your trefpafs, and return your mock
In fecond accent to his ordinance.

Dau. Say, if my father render fair reply,
It is against my will; for I defire

Nothing but odds with England; to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,

I did present him with thofe Paris balls.

Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it, Were it the miftrefs court of mighty Europe: And, be affur'd, you'll find a difference, (As we his fubjects 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 loffes, if he ftay in France.

Fr. King. Tomorrow you fhall know our mind at full. [Flourish. Exe. Difpatch us with all speed, left that our King Come here himself to queftion our delay; For he is footed in this land already.

Fr. King. You shall be foon dispatch'd with fair conditions:

A night is but small breath, and little pause,

To answer matters of this confequence.

[Exeunt.

8 Shall HIDE your trefpafs,—] Mr. Pope rightly corrected it,

Shall CHIDE

ACT

ACT III. SCENE I.

Chorus.

Enter СH ORU S.

HUS with imagin'd wing our fwift scene

flies, TH

In motion of no lefs celerity

Than that of thought.

Suppofe, that you have seen
The well-appointed King at Hampton Peer
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet

With filken ftreamers the young Phœbus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, fhip-boys climbing;
Hear the fhrill whistle, which doth order give
To founds confus'd; behold the threaden fails,
Borne with th'invifible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd fea,
Breafting the lofty furge. O, do but think,
You ftand upon the rivage, and behold
A city on th' inconftant billows dancing;
For fo appears this Fleet majestical,

Holding due courfe to Harfleur. Follow, follow.
Grapple your minds to fternage of this navy,
And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
Guarded with grandfires, babies and old women;
Or paft, or not arriv'd, to pith and puiffance:
For who is he, whofe chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
Thefe cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France ?
Work, work your thoughts, and therein fee a fiege;
Behold the ordnance on their carriages

With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppofe, th' ambaffador from France comes back

I ACT III. SCENE I.] This whole act (and all the rest of the play) very much enlarged and improved by the author, fince the editions of 1600, and 1608.

A a 3

Mr. Pope.
Tells

Tells Harry, that the King doth offer him
Catharine his daughter, and with her to dowry
Some petty and unprofitable Dukedoms :
The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner
With lynftock now the develish cannon touches,
[Alarm, and Cannon go off.
And down goes all before him. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind.

SCENE

[Exit.

II.

Before HARF LE U R.

Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester; Soldiers, with fcaling ladders.

K.Henry. ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends,

once more;

Or close the wall up with the English dead.
In peace, there's nothing fo becomes a man
As modeft ftillness and humility:

But when the blaft of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the Tyger;
Stiffen the finews, fummon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible afpect;
Let it pry thro' the portage of the head,
Like the brafs cannon: let the brow o'erwhelm it,
As fearfully, as doth a galled rock

O'er-hang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wafteful ocean.

Now fet the teeth, and stretch the noftril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height. Now on, you nobleft English,
Whofe blood is fetcht from fathers of war-proof;
Fathers, that, like fo many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,

And

And fheath'd their fwords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now atteft,

That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget you.
Be copy now to men of groffer blood,

And teach them how to war; and you, good yeomen,
Whose limbs were made in England, fhew us here
The mettle of your pasture: let us swear

That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not:
For there is none of you fo mean and base,
That hath not noble luftre in your eyes;
I fee you stand like Greyhounds in the flips,
Straining upon the start.

Follow your spirit; and,

The game's a-foot: upon this charge,

Cry, God for Harry! England! and St. George!

[Exeunt King, and Train. [Alarm, and Cannon go off.

SCEN E III.

Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy.

Bard. On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach.

Nim. 'Pray thee, corporal, ftay; the knocks are too hot; and for mine own part, I have not a cafe of lives: the humour of it is too hot, that is the very plain fong of it.

Pift. The plain fong is most juft; for humours do abound:

Knocks go and come: God's vaffals drop and die; And sword and fhield, in bloody field, doth win immortal fame.

Boy. Wou'd I were in an ale-house in London, I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and fafety.

2

Pift. And I; if wishes would prevail,

I wou'd not stay, but thither would I hye.

2 And I; if wishes &c.] See the editions of 1600, and 1608.

A a 4

Mr. Pope.
Enter