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  • Title: Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: James D. Mardock

    • ISBN: 978-1-55058-409-7

    Copyright James D. Mardock. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: James D. Mardock
    Peer Reviewed

    Henry V (Folio 1, 1623)

    The Life of Henry the Fift. 77
    King. For vs, we will consider of this further:
    To morrow shall you beare our full intent
    Back to our Brother of England.
    1010Dolph. For the Dolphin,
    I stand here for him: what to him from England?
    Exe. Scorne and defiance, sleight regard, contempt,
    And any thing that may not mis-become
    The mightie Sender, doth he prize you at.
    1015Thus sayes my King: and if your Fathers Highnesse
    Doe not, in graunt of all demands at large,
    Sweeten the bitter Mock you sent his Maiestie;
    Hee'le call you to so hot an Answer of it,
    That Caues and Wombie Vaultages of France
    1020Shall chide your Trespas, and returne your Mock
    In second Accent of his Ordinance.
    Dolph. Say: if my Father render faire returne,
    It is against my will: for I desire
    Nothing but Oddes with England.
    1025To that end, as matching to his Youth and Vanitie,
    I did present him with the Paris-Balls.
    Exe. Hee'le make your Paris Louer shake for it,
    Were it the Mistresse Court of mightie Europe:
    And be assur'd, you'le find a diff'rence,
    1030As we his Subiects haue in wonder found,
    Betweene the promise of his greener dayes,
    And these he masters now: now he weighes Time
    Euen to the vtmost Graine: that you shall reade
    In your owne Losses, if he stay in France.
    1035King. To morrow shall you know our mind at full.
    Flourish.
    Exe. Dispatch vs with all speed, least that our King
    Come here himselfe to question our delay;
    For he is footed in this Land already.
    1040King. You shalbe soone dispatcht, with faire conditions.
    A Night is but small breathe, and little pawse,
    To answer matters of this consequence. Exeunt.


    Actus Secundus.


    Flourish. Enter Chorus.
    1045Thus with imagin'd wing our swift Scene flyes,
    In motion of no lesse celeritie then that of Thought.
    Suppose, that you haue seene
    The well-appointed King at Douer Peer,
    Embarke his Royaltie: and his braue Fleet,
    1050With silken Streamers, the young Phebus fayning;
    Play with your Fancies: and in them behold,
    Vpon the Hempen Tackle, Ship-boyes climbing;
    Heare the shrill Whistle, which doth order giue
    To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden Sayles,
    1055Borne with th'inuisible and creeping Wind,
    Draw the huge Bottomes through the furrowed Sea,
    Bresting the loftie Surge. O, doe but thinke
    You stand vpon the Riuage, and behold
    A Citie on th'inconstant Billowes dauncing:
    1060For so appeares this Fleet Maiesticall,
    Holding due course to Harflew. Follow, follow:
    Grapple your minds to sternage of this Nauie,
    And leaue your England as dead Mid-night, still,
    Guarded with Grandsires, Babyes, and old Women,
    1065Eyther past, or not arriu'd to pyth and puissance:
    For who is he, whose Chin is but enricht

    With one appearing Hayre, that will not follow
    These cull'd and choyse-drawne Caualiers to France?
    Worke, worke your Thoughts, and therein see a Siege:
    1070Behold the Ordenance on their Carriages,
    With fatall mouthes gaping on girded Harflew.
    Suppose th'Embassador from the French comes back:
    Tells Harry, That the King doth offer him
    Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowrie,
    1075Some petty and vnprofitable Dukedomes.
    The offer likes not: and the nimble Gunner
    With Lynstock now the diuellish Cannon touches,
    Alarum, and Chambers goe off.
    And downe goes all before them. Still be kind,
    1080And eech out our performance with your mind. Exit.

    Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester.
    Alarum: Scaling Ladders at Harflew.
    King. Once more vnto the Breach,
    Deare friends, once more;
    1085Or close the Wall vp with our English dead:
    In Peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
    As modest stillnesse, and humilitie:
    But when the blast of Warre blowes in our eares,
    Then imitate the action of the Tyger:
    1090Stiffen the sinewes, commune vp the blood,
    Disguise faire Nature with hard-fauour'd Rage:
    Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:
    Let it pry through the portage of the Head,
    Like the Brasse Cannon: let the Brow o'rewhelme it,
    1095As fearefully, as doth a galled Rocke
    O're-hang and iutty his confounded Base,
    Swill'd with the wild and wastfull Ocean.
    Now set the Teeth, and stretch the Nosthrill wide,
    Hold hard the Breath, and bend vp euery Spirit
    1100To his full height. On, on, you Noblish English,
    Whose blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe:
    Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,
    Haue in these parts from Morne till Euen fought,
    And sheath'd their Swords, for lack of argument.
    1105Dishonour not your Mothers: now attest,
    That those whom you call'd Fathers, did beget you.
    Be Coppy now to men of grosser blood,
    And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen,
    Whose Lyms were made in England; shew vs here
    1110The mettell of your Pasture: let vs sweare,
    That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not:
    For there is none of you so meane and base,
    That hath not Noble luster in your eyes.
    I see you stand like Grey-hounds in the slips,
    1115Straying vpon the Start. The Game's afoot:
    Follow your Spirit; and vpon this Charge,
    Cry, God for Harry, England, and S. George.
    Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

    Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistoll, and Boy.
    1120Bard. On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach.
    Nim. 'Pray thee Corporall stay, the Knocks are too
    hot: and for mine owne part, I haue not a Case of Liues:
    the humor of it is too hot, that is the very plaine-Song
    of it.
    1125Pist. The plaine-Song is most iust: for humors doe a-
    bound: Knocks goe and come: Gods Vassals drop and
    dye: and Sword and Shield, in bloody Field, doth winne
    immortall fame.
    Boy. Would I were in a Ale-house in London, I
    1130would giue all my fame for a Pot of Ale, and safetie.
    Pist. And
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