Enter CHORUS.

Chorus	Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies
	In motion of no less celerity
	Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
	The well-appointed king at Dover Pier
	Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
	With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning.
	Play with your fancies, and in them behold
	Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
	Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
	To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,
	Borne with th' invisible and creeping wind,
	Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea,
	Breasting the lofty surge. O, do but think
	You stand upon the rivage and behold
	A city on th' inconstant billows dancing;
	For so appears this fleet majestical,
	Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow!
	Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,
	And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
	Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women,
	Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance;
	For who is he whose chin is but enriched
	With one appearing hair that will not follow
	These culled and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
	Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
	Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
	With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
	Suppose th' ambassador from the French comes back,
	Tells Harry that the king doth offer him
	Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry,
	Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
	The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner
	With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
									  [Alarum, and chambers go off.
	And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
	And eke out our performance with your mind.
													[Exit.
France. Before Harfleur.
 Alarum. Enter the KING, 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, conjure 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 galld rock
	O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
	Swilled 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 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,
	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.
