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Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
For Christian service and true chivalry,
As is the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son,
This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear

Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it,
Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious

Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,

With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:

That England, that was wont to conquer others,

Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing death!

2. Unity Against the Foe

[The speech of Faulconbridge, Shakespeare's King John]

Bast. This England never did, nor never shall,

Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them. Nought shall
make us rue,

If England to itself do rest but true.

3. England at War

[From Shakespeare's Henry V, Act III] Enter Chorus

Chor. Thus with imagined wing our'swift scene flies

In motion of no less celerity

Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen

The well-appointed king at Hampton pier Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet With silken streamers the young Phoebus 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 confused; behold the threaden sails,

Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the fur

row'd sea,

Breasting the lofty surge: 0, do but think
You stand upon the rivage and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur.


Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, And leave your England, as dead midnight still,

Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women,

Either past or not arrived to pith and puis


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 the ambassador from the French comes back;

Tells Harry that the king doth offer him Katharine his daughter, and with her, to


Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
With linstock now the devilish cannon

[Alarum, and chambers go off And down goes all before them. Still be kind,

And eke out our performance with your mind. [Exit

SCENE I. France. Before Harfleur Alarum. Enter KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, and Soldiers, with scaling-ladders.

K. Hen. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favor'd rage:
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'er-
whelm it

As fearfully as doth a galled rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit

To his full height. On, on, you noblest English,

Whose blood is fet from fathers of warproof!

Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have in these parts from morn till even fought

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:

Dishonor not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget


Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good


Whose limbs were made in England, show 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 luster in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry, "God for Harry, England, and Saint

[Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers go off.

[From Act IV]

Enter Chorus

Chor. Now entertain conjecture of a time
When creeping murmur and the poring dark
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
From camp to camp through the foul womb
of night

The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fixed sentinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch:
Fire answers fire, and through their paly

Each battle sees the other's umber'd face; Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs

Piercing the night's dull ear, and from the tents

The armorers, accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation:

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,

And the third hour of drowsy morning


Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,
The confident and over-lusty French
Do the low-rated English play at dice;
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp
So tediously away. The poor condemned

Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate

The morning's danger, and their gesture sad
Investing lank-lean cheeks and war-worn


Presenteth them unto the gazing moon So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold

The royal captain of this ruin'd band Walking from watch to watch, from tent to


Let him cry, "Praise and glory on his head!"

For forth he goes and visits all his host,
Bids them good morrow with a modest smile,
And calls them brothers, friends, and coun-

Upon his royal face there is no note
How dread an army hath enrounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of color
Unto the weary and all-watched night,
But freshly looks and over-bears attaint
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his

A largess universal like the sun

His liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all,
Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Harry in the night.
And so our scene must to the battle fly;
Where O for pity!-we shall much dis-

With four or five most vile and ragged foils,
Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous,
The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,
Minding true things by what their mockeries

SCENE III. The English Camp


Glou. Where is the king?

Bed. The king himself is rode to view their battle.

West. Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand.

Exe. There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.

Sal. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.

God be wi' you, princes all; I'll to my charge:

If we no more meet till we meet in heaven, Then, joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford, My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,

And my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu! Bed. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!

Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly today:

And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, For thou art framed of the firm truth of [Exit Salisbury




He is as full of valor as of kind

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Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man's company,
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe

Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say, "Tomorrow is Saint Crispian”;
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his

And say, "These wounds I had on Crispin's day."

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day: then shall our

Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glou-

Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.

This story shall the good man teach his son:
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother: be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were
not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.




Fair stood the wind for France, When we our sails advance; Nor now to prove our chance

Longer will tarry;

But putting to the main,
At Caux, the mouth of Seine,
With all his martial train

Landed King Harry.

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Gloucester, that duke so good,
Next of the royal blood,
For famous England stood
With his brave brother.
Clarence, in steel so bright,
Though but a maiden knight,
Yet in that furious fight,
Scarce such another!


Warwick in blood did wade; Oxford, the foe invade, And cruel slaughter made,

Still as they ran up. Suffolk his axe did ply; Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtily; Ferrers, and Fanhope.


Upon Saint Crispin's Day
Fought was this noble fray;
Which Fame did not delay
To England to carry.
O, when shall English men
With such acts fill a pen?
Or England breed again
Such a King Harry?



[From the Voyages, 1589]

To harp no longer upon this string, and to speak a word of that just commendation which our nation do indeed deserve: it cannot be denied, but as in all former ages they have been men full of activity, stirrers abroad, and searchers of the remote parts of the world, so in this most famous and peerless government of her most excellent Majesty, her subjects, through the special assistance and blessing of God, in searching the most opposite corners and quarters of the world, and to speak plainly, in compassing the vast globe of the earth more than once, have excelled all the nations and people of the earth. For which of the kings of this land before her Majesty had their banners ever seen in the Caspian sea? which of them hath ever dealt with the emperor of Persia as her Majesty hath done, and obtained for her merchants large and lov

ing privileges? who ever saw, before this regiment, an English Ligier in the stately porch of the Grand Signor at Constantinople? who ever found English consuls and agents at Tripolis in Syria, at Aleppo, at Babylon, at Balsara, and which is more, who ever heard of Englishman at Goa before now? what English ships did heretofore ever anchor in the mighty river of Plate? pass and repass the unpassable (in former opinion) Strait of Magellan, range along the coast of Chili, Peru, and all the backside of Nova Hispania, further than any christian ever passed, traverse the mighty breadth of the South Sea, land upon the Luzones in despite of the enemy, enter into alliance, amity, and traffic with the princes of the Moluccas and the isle of Java, double the famous cape of Bona Speranza, arrive at the isle of St. Helena, and last of all return home most richly laden with the commodities of China, as the subjects of this now flourishing monarchy have done?




You brave heroic minds,

Worthy your country's name,
That honor still pursue;

Go and subdue!

Whilst loitering hinds

Lurk here at home with shame.


Britons, you stay too long;
Quickly aboard bestow you!
And with a merry gale
Swell your stretched sail,
With vows as strong
As the winds that blow you!


Your course securely steer,
West-and-by-south forth keep!
Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals,
When Eolus scowls,
You need not fear,
So absolute the deep.


And, cheerfully at sea,
Success you still entice,
To get the pearl and gold;

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