Enter Chorus. |
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 fix'd 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 umber'd face: |
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs |
Piercing the night's dull car; and from the tents |
The armourers, 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 name. |
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 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. O! now, who will behold |
The royal captain of this ruin'd 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. |
Upon his royal face there is no note |
How dread an army hath enrounded him; |
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour |
Unto the weary and all-watched 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, |
Thawing cold fear. Then 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 disgrace, |
With four or five most vile and ragged foils, |
Right ill dispos'd in brawl ridiculous, |
The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see; |
Minding true things by what their mockeries be. [Exit. |
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