France. Before Harfleur. |
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Alarums. 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-favour'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'erwhelm 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 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. |
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest |
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. |
Be copy now to men of grosser blood, |
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, |
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, |
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 chambers go off. |
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