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[Up in the air, crown'd with the golden fun,]
Saw his heroic feed, and fmil'd to see him
Mangle the work of nature: and deface

The patterns, that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made.

This is a ftem

Of that victorious ftock; and let us fear

The native mightiness and fate of him.

Enter a Meffenger.

Meff. Ambaffadors from Harry, King of England, Do crave admittance to your Majesty.

Fr. King. We'll give them present audience. Go, and bring them.

You fee, this chafe is hotly follow'd, friends.

Dau. Turn head, and ftop purfuit; for coward dogs Most spend their mouths, when, what they seem to threaten,

Runs far before them. Good my Sovereign,
Take up the English fhort; and let them know
Of what a monarchy you are the head:
Self-love, my Liege, it not fo vile a fin,
As felf neglecting.

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Fr. King. Fe. From him; and thus he greets

ROM our brother England?

your Majefty:

He wills you in the name of God Almighty,
That you diveft yourself, and lay apart
The borrow'd glories, that, by gift of heaven,
By law of nature and of nations, 'long

To him and to his heirs; namely, the Crown;
And all the wide-ftretch'd honours, that pertain
By cuftom and the ordinance of times,

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 moft memorable Line,
In every branch truly demonftrative,

[Gives the French King a Paper.
Willing you over-look this pedigree;
And when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his moft 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.

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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 fouls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vafty jaws; upon your head

Turning the widows' tears, the orphans' cries,
The dead men's blood, the pining maidens' groans,
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,
That fhall be fwallow'd in this controverfy.
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 ftand here for him; what to him from England?
Exe. Scorn and defiance, flight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not mif-become
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

Sweeten the bitter mock you fent his Majefty;
He'll call you to fo 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 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 mistress court of mighty Europe:
And, be affur'd, you'll find a difference,
(As we his fubjects have in wonder found,)
Between the promifs of his greener days,
And these he mafters now; now he weighs time
Even to the utmoft grain, which you shall read
In your own loffes, if he stay in France.

Fr. King. To-morrow you shall know our mind at full. [Flourish. Exe. Difpatch us with all speed, left that our King Come here himself to question our delay;

For he is footed in this land already.

Fr. King. You fhall be foon dispatch'd with fair

conditions:

A night is but small breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this confequence.

[Exeunt.

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Shall hide your trefpafs,-] Mr. Pope rightly corrected it, Shall

chide

+Aa III. SCENE I.] This whole A&t (and all the Reft of the Play) very much enlarged and improved by the Author, fince the Editions of 1600, and 1608.

Mr. Pope.

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 whittle, which doth order give
To founds confus'd; behold the threaden fails,
Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd fea,
Breafting the loftyfurge. O, do but think,
You ftand upon the rivage, and behold
A city on th' inconftant billows dancing;
For fo appears this Fleet majeftical,

Holding due courfe to Harfleur. Follow, Follow.
Grapple your minds to fternage of this navy,
And leave your England, as dead midnight ftill,
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.
Suppose, th' ambaffador from France comes back;
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 devilish cannon touches,
[Alarm, and Cannon go off.
And down goes all before him. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind.

[Exit.

SCENE

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

NCE more unto the breach, dear

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K. Henry. Friends, once more;

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

In

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 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 wafteful ocean.
Now fet the teeth, and ftretch the noftril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height. Now on, you nobleft English,
Whose blood is fetcht from fathers of war-proof;
Fathers, that, like fo many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And fheath'd their fwords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest,

That thofe, 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,
Whofe limbs were made in England, fhew us here
The mettle of your pafture: 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 luftre in your eyes;

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