SCENE IV. THE ATTACK ON HARFleur.

The wall has been breached by the cannons. The English have assaulted, but been driven back; the King heads a second charge.

Alarums. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Gloucester, and soldiers with scaling-ladders.

King. 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-favoured 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'erwhelm it,
As fearfully as doth a gallèd rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful oceán.

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 war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest

That those whom you called fathers did beget you!
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

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And teach them how to war! And you, good yeomen, 25
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 lustre in your eyes.

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I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. [He seizes a banner.] The game's

afoot:

Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge, Cry God for Harry! England! and Saint George!' [Alarum, and cannons go off. The English attack the walls.

CHORUS IV. THE EVE OF BATTLE.

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 flames
Each battle sees the other's umbered face;

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Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs 10
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 preparatión.

The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll,
And the third hour of drowsy morning name.
Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,

The confident and over-lusty French

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Do the low-rated English play at dice;

And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night

Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp

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Sɔ tediously away. The poor condemnèd English
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 coats,
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghosts. Oh now, who will behold
The royal Captain of this ruined band,
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
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 countrymen.

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30

Upon his royal face there is no note

How dread an army hath enrounded him ;

Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour

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Unto the weary and all-watchèd night,
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty ;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:
A largess universal like the sun

His liberal eye doth give to every one.
And so our scene must to the battle fly;
Where (oh, for pity !) we shall much disgrace-
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 be.

SCENE V. IN CAMP AT AGINCOURT.

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Enter King Henry and Gloucester, meeting Bedford.
King. Gloucester, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
The greater, therefore, should our courage be.
Good morrow, brother Bedford. God Almighty!
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out;

For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry.

Enter Sir Thomas Erpingham.

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good soft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlish turf of France.

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Erpingham. Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better,

Since I may say 'Now lie I like a king'.

King. 'Tis good for men to love their present pains Upon example, so the spirit is eased.

Lend me thy cloak, Sir Thomas. Brothers both, 15
Commend me to the princes in our camp;

Do my good morrow to them, and, anon,
Desire them all to my pavilión.
Gloucester. We shall, my liege.

Erpingham. Shall I attend your grace!
King.

No, my good knight; 20

Go with my brothers to my lords of England:

I and my bosom must debate a while,
And then I would no other company.
Erpingham. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble
Harry!
[Exeunt all but the King.

King. God-a-mercy, old heart! thou speak'st cheerfully.

Enter three soldiers, John Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams. The King wraps himself in the cloak.

Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning which breaks yonder ?

Bates. I think it be but we have no great cause to desire the approach of day.

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Williams. We see yonder the beginning of the day, but 30 I think we shall never see the end of it. Who goes there? [He challenges the King with his spear.

King. A friend.

Williams. Under what captain serve you?

King. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham.

Williams. A good old commander, and a most kind 35 gentleman [They sit round the camp-fire.] I pray you,

:

what thinks he of our estate ?

King. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that look to be washed off the next tide.

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King? 40 King. No; nor it is not meet he should. For, though I speak it to you, I think the King is but a man as I am : the violet smells to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to me; all his senses have but human conditions. Therefore, when he sees reason of 45 fears, as we do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as ours are: yet no man should possess him with any appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, should dishearten his army.

Bates. He may show what outward courage he will; 50 but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could wish himself in Thames up to the neck;—and so I would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so we were quit here.

King [rising]. By my troth, I will speak my conscience of the King: I think he would not wish himself anywhere 55

but where he is.

Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poor men's lives saved.

King. I dare say you love him not so ill, to wish him 60 here alone, howsoever you speak this to feel other men's minds: methinks I could not die anywhere so contented as in the King's company, his cause being just, and his quarrel honourable.

Williams. That's more than we know.

Bates. Aye, or more than we should seek after; for we know enough, if we know we are the King's subjects: if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the crime of it out of us.

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Williams. But if the cause be not good, the King 70 himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day, and cry all 'We died at such a place'; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon 75 the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle. Now, if these men do not die well, it will be a black matter for the King that led them to it.

King. So, if a son, that is by his father sent about 80 merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should be imposed upon his father that sent him :-but this is not so: the King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his soldiers, nor the father of his son; for they purpose 85 not their death when they purpose their services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrament of swords, can try it out with all unspotted soldiers: some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of murder; some have gored the gentle 90 bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, if these men have defeated the law, though they can outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from God: war is his beadle, war is his vengeance. Therefore, should every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash every mote 95 out of his conscience and dying so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost wherein such preparation was gained and in him that escapes, it were not sin to think that, making God so free