Enter Chorus. |
| Chor. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story, |
| That I may prompt them: and of such as have, |
| I humbly pray them to admit the excuse |
| Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, |
| Which cannot in their huge and proper life |
| Be here presented. Now we bear the king |
| Toward Calais: grant him there; there seen, |
| Heave him away upon your winged thoughts |
| Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach |
| Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys, |
| Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea, |
| Which, like a mighty whiffler 'fore the king, |
| Seems to prepare his way: so let him land |
| And solemnly see him set on to London. |
| So swift a pace hath thought that even now |
| You may imagine him upon Blackheath; |
| Where that his lords desire him to have borne |
| His bruised helmet and his bended sword |
| Before him through the city: he forbids it, |
| Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride; |
| Giving full trophy, signal and ostent, |
| Quite from himself, to God. But now behold, |
| In the quick forge and working-house of thought, |
| How London doth pour out her citizens. |
| The mayor and all his brethren in best sort, |
| Like to the senators of the antique Rome, |
| With the plebeians swarming at their heels, |
| Go forth and fetch their conquering Cæsar in: |
| As, by a lower but loving likelihood, |
| Were now the general of our gracious empress,— |
| As in good time he may,—from Ireland coming, |
| Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, |
| How many would the peaceful city quit |
| To welcome him! much more, and much more cause, |
| Did they this Harry. Now in London place him; |
| As yet the lamentation of the French |
| Invites the King of England's stay at home,— |
| The emperor's coming in behalf of France, |
| To order peace between them;—and omit |
| All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd, |
| Till Harry's back-return again to France: |
| There must we bring him; and myself have play'd |
| The interim, by remembering you 'tis past. |
| Then brook abridgment, and your eyes advance, |
| After your thoughts, straight back again to France. [Exit. |
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