More would I, but my lungs are wasted so
That strength of speech is utterly denied mę.
How I came by the crown, O God forgive;
And grant it may with thee in true peace live!
Prince. My gracious liege,

You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;
Then plain and right must my possession be:
Which I with more than with a common pain
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.

(Enter Prince John of Lancaster.)

King. Look, look, here comes my John of Lan

caster.

Lancaster. Health, peace, and happiness to my royal father!

King. Thou bring'st me happiness and peace, son
John;

But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown
From this bare wither'd trunk: upon thy sight
My worldly business makes a period.

Where is my Lord of Warwick?

Prince.

My Lord of Warwick!

(Reënter Warwick, and others.)

King. Doth any name particular belong Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?

Warwick. 'Tis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord.

King. Laud be to God! even there my life must end.

It hath been prophesied to me many years

I should not die but in Jerusalem,

Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land. —
But bear me to that chamber: there I'll lie;
In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.

[Exeunt.

KING HENRY THE FIFTH

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

THE brave and self-confident young king undertook to recover the French provinces. He even renewed Edward III.'s claim to the French crown. The brilliant victories won by the English were due in part to their enthusiasm and excellent discipline, but even more to the utter incapacity of France. The French king, Charles VI., was an imbecile, and the land was torn by the strife of rival factions. Famine and disease had reduced the people to a state of abject despair. Henry V. regarded his mission as a crusade against the vices of a demoralized nation.

ACT III

SCENE I. FRANCE.

FRANCE. Before Harfleur.

(Alarum. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Gloucester, and Soldiers with scaling-ladders.)

King Henry. 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-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let it pry through the portage1 of the head

Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a gallèd rock

O'erhang and jutty 2 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 noble English,
Whose blood is fet 5 from fathers of war-proof,
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheath'd their swords for lack of argument! 6
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest

That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

7

And teach them how to war!—And you, good yeo

men,

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.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,8
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:

Follow your spirit, and upon this charge

Cry "God for Harry, England, and Saint George!" [Exeunt. Alarum, and chambers1 go off.

ACT IV

SCENE I. The English Camp at Agincourt.

(Enter King Henry, Bedford, and Gloucester.) King Henry. 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: 2
Besides, they are our outward consciences,
And preachers to us all, admonishing

That we should dress3 us fairly for our end.
Thus may we gather honey from the weed,
And make a moral of the devil himself.

(Enter Erpingham.)

Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good soft pillow for that good white head
Were better than a churlish turf of France.
Erpingham. Not so, my liege: this lodging likes 4

me better,

Since I may say, now lie I like a king.

King Henry. 'Tis good for men to love their present pains

Upon example; so the spirit is eas'd:

And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,
The organs, though defunct and dead before,
Break up their drowsy grave and newly move,
With casted slough and fresh legerity.1

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

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

Erringham. Shall I attend your grace?

King Henry.

No, my good knight;

Go with my brothers to my lords of England:

I and my bosom must debate awhile,

And then I would no other company.

Erpingham. The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble

Harry!

[Exeunt all but King.

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

King Henry. O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;

Possess them not with fear; take from them now The sense of reckoning, if the opposèd numbers Pluck their hearts from them. Not to-day, O Lord, O, not to-day, think not upon the fault

1 alacrity.