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Unto the Crown of France. That you may know,
'Tis no finifter nor no aukward claim,
Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanilh'd days,
Nor from the dust of old oblivion rak'd ;
He sends 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 else 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 souls, 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 controversie. This is his claim, his threatning, and my message ; Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, To whom exprefly 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, contempt,
And any thing that may not mis-become
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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 sent his Majesty ;
He'll call you to so hot an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France

Shall chide your trespass, 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 desire
Nothing but odds with England; to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,
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 you shall know our mind at full.

(Flourish. Exe. Dispatch us with all speed, lest that our King Come here himself to question our delay; For he is footed in this land already. Fr. KingYou shall be soon dispatch'd with fair

conditions: A night is but small breath, and little pause, To answer matters of this consequence. [Exeunt.

8 Shall hide your trespass,-) Mr. Pope rightly corrected it,

Shall CHID E


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THUS with imagin’d wing our swift scene

In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose, that you have seen
The well-appointed King at Hampton Peer
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phæbus 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 confus'd ; 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,
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 grandfires, babies and old women ;
Or past, or not arriv'd, 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 ?
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 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.

Mr. Pope.


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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 lynstock now the develish cannon touches,

[Alarm, and Cannon go off. And down goes all before him.

all before him. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your


[Exit. S c E N N E II.

Before HARFLEU R. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester;

Soldiers, with scaling 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 stillness and humility : But when the blast 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 aspect; Let it pry thro' the portage of the head, Like the brass 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 wasteful 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 noblest English, Whole blood is fetcht from fathers of war-proof; Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even fought,


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And sheath'd their swords for lack of

argument. Dishonour not your mothers; now attest, That those, whom you callid 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, shew 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 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 a-foot : Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge, Cry, God for Harry! England! and St. George!

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

S CE N E III. Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistol, and Boy. Bard. On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach.

Nim. '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. Pift. 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 im

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

Pit. ? And I; if wishes would prevail, I wou'd not stay, but thither would I hye. 2 And I; if wißes &c.] See the editions of 1600, and 1608.

Mr. Pope.


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