Once more unto the breach, 1084dear friends, once more,

3.1.21085Or close the wall up with our English dead!

3.1.31086In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man

3.1.41087As modest stillness and humility,

3.1.51088But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

3.1.61089Then imitate the action of the tiger:

3.1.71090Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,

3.1.81091Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage.

3.1.91092Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

3.1.101093Let it pry through the portage of the head

3.1.111094Like the brass cannon. Let the brow o'erwhelm it

3.1.121095As fearfully as doth a gallèd rock

3.1.131096O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,

3.1.141097Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.

3.1.151098Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

3.1.161099Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit

3.1.171100To his full height. On! On, you noble English,

3.1.181101Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,

3.1.191102Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,

3.1.201103Have in these parts from morn till even fought

3.1.211104And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.

3.1.221105Dishonor not your mothers; now attest

3.1.231106That those whom you called fathers did beget you.

3.1.241107Be copy now to men of grosser blood

3.1.251108And teach them how to war. And you good yeomen,

3.1.261109Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

3.1.271110The mettle of your pasture. Let us swear

3.1.281111That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not,

3.1.291112For there is none of you so mean and base

3.1.301113That hath not noble luster in your eyes.

3.1.311114I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,

3.1.321115Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:

3.1.331116Follow your spirit, and upon this charge

3.1.341117Cry "God for Harry, England, and Saint George!"