Up in the air, crown'd with the golden fun,
Saw his heroick feed, and fmil'd to fee him
Mangle the work of nature: and deface

The patterns, that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a ftem
Of that victorious ftock; and let us fear
The native mightiness and fate of him.

Enter a Meflenger.

Mell. Ambaffadors from Harry, King of England, Do crave admittance to your Majefty.

Fr. King. We'll give them prefent audience. Go, and bring them.

You fee, this chafe is hotly follow'd, friends.

Dau. Turn head, and ftop purfuit; for coward dogs Most spend their mouths, when, what they feem to Runs far before them. Good my Sovereign,

Take up the English fhort; and let them know
Of what a monarchy you are the head:
Self-love, my Liege, is not fo vile a fin,
As felf-neglecting.

Enter Exeter.

Fr. King. From our brother England?

[threaten,

Exe. From him; and thus he greets your Majefty: He wills you in the name of God Almighty,

That you divest your felf, and lay apart

The borrow'd glories, that, by gift of heaven,
By law of nature and of nations, 'long
To him and to his heirs; namely, the Crown ;
And all the wide-ftretch'd honours, that pertain
By cuftom and the ordinance of times,

Unto the Crown of France. That you may know,
'Tis no finifter nor no awkward claim,

Pick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanifh'd days,
Nor from the duft of old oblivion rak'd;
He fends you this most memorable Line,
In every branch truly demonftrative,

[Gives the French King a Paper.

Willing you over-look this pedigree;

C

And

And when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his most fam'd of famous ancestors,
Edward the Third; he bids you then refign
Your Crown and Kingdom, indirectly held
From him the native and true challenger.
Fr. King. Or else what follows?

Exe. Bloody constraint; for if you hide the Crown
Ev'n in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
And therefore in fierce tempeft is he coming,
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove :'
That, if requiring fail, he may compel.
He bids you, in the bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the Crown; and to take mercy
On the poor fouls, for whom this hungry war
Opens his vafty jaws; upon your head
Turning the widows tears, the orphans cries,
The dead mens blood, the pining maidens groans, (20)
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers,

That fhall be fwallow'd in this controverfie.
This is his claim, his threatning, and my meffage;
Unless the Dauphin be in prefence here,

To whom exprefly I bring Greeting too.

Fr. King. For us, we will confider of this further:
To morrow fhall you bear our full intent
Back to our brother England.

Dau. For the Dauphin,

I ftand here for him; what to him from England?
Exe. Scorn and defiance, flight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not mif-become

The mighty fender, doth he prize you at

(20)The pining Maidens Groans,] This is the Epithet Mr. Pope has espoused from the old 4to's. Mr. Rowe read with the firft folio's

The privy Maidens groans,

Which, according to poetical Ufage, might fignify, the Groans of Maidens vented in private. From this Word, which he esteems a Corruption, Mr. Warburton ingeniously would substitute;

-The prived Maidens groans,

i.e. the deprived: the Verfe, which immediately follows, neceffarily requiring fuch a Senfe. As all the Epithets make Senfe, I have contented my felf with giving the various Readings, together with my Friend's Conjecture.

Thus fays my King; and if your father's Highness
Do not, in grant of all demands at large,
Sweeten the bitter mock you fent his Majefty;
He'll call you to so hot an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall hide your trefpafs, and return your mock
In fecond accent to his ordinance.

Dau. Say, if my father render fair reply,
It is against my will; for I defire

Nothing but odds with England; to that end,
As matching to his youth and vanity,

I did present him with thofe Paris balls.
Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for it,
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe :
And, be affur'd, you'll find a difference,
(As we his fubjects have in wonder found,)
Between the promise of his greener days,
And these he mafters now; now he weighs time
Even to the utmoft grain, which
you fhall read
In your own loffes, if he ftay in France.

Fr. King. To morrow you fhall know our mind at full.

[Flourifb. Exe. Difpatch us with all fpeed, left that our King Come here himself to question our delay;

For he is footed in this land already.

[ditions:

Fr. King. You fhall be foon difpatch'd- with fair con

A night is but fmall breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this confequence,

Enter Chorus.

Thus with imagin'd wing our fwift fcene flies,

In motion of no less celerity

[Exeunt.

Than that of thought. Suppofe, that you have seen
The well-appointed King at Hampton Peer (21)

Embark

(21) The well-appointed King at Dover peer Embark his Royalty.] Thus all the Editions downwards, implicitly after the firft Folio. But could the Poet poffibly be fo difcordant from himself, (and the Chronicles, which he copied ;) to make the King here embark at Dover; when he has before told us fo precisely, and that fo

C 3

often

"

Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With filken ftreamers the young Phabus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen' tackle, ship-boys climbing;
Hear the fhrill whistle, which doth order give
To founds confus'd; behold the threaden fails,
Born with th' invifible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms thro' the furrow'd fea,
Breafting the lofty furge. O, do but think,
You ftand upon the rivage, and behold
A city on th' inconftant billows dancing;
For fo appears this Fleet majestical,

Holding due courfe to Harfleur. Follow, follow.
Grapple your minds to fternage of this navy,
And leave your England, as dead midnight ftill,
Guarded with grandfires, babies and old women;
Or past, or not arriv'd, to pith and puiffance:
For who is he, whofe chin is but enrich'd
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
Thefe cull'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work your thoughts, and therein fee a fiege;
Behold the ordnance on their carriages

With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppofe, th' ambaffador from France comes back;
Tells Harry, that the King doth offer him
Catharine his daughter, and with her to dowry
Some petty and unprofitable Dukedoms:
The offer likes not; and the nimble gunner
With lynftock now the devilish cannon touches,
And down goes all before him. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind,

[Exit,

often over, that he embark'd at Southampton? I dare acquit the Poet from fo flagrant a Variation. The Indolence of a Tranfcriber, or a Workman at Prefs, muft give Rife to fuch an Error. They, feeing Peer at the End of the Verfe, unluckily thought of Dover-peer, as the best known to them and fo unawares corrupted the Text.

ACT

ACT III.

SCENE, before Harfleur.

[Alarm, and Cannon go off.

Enter King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester; Soldiers, with fealing ladders.

King HENRY.

Nce more unto the breach, dear friends,.

once more;

Or close the wall up with the English dead.
In peace, there's nothing fo becomes a man:
As modeft ftillness and humility:

But when the blaft of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the Tyger;
Stiffen the finews, fummon up the blood,
Difguife fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible afpect;

Let it pry thro' the portage of the head,
Like the brafs cannon: let the brow o'erwhelm it,
As fearfully, as doth a galled rock

O'er-hang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and waftful ocean.

Now fet the teeth, and stretch the noftril wide;
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full height. Now on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fetcht from fathers of war-proof;
Fathers, that, like fo many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheath'd their fwords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now atteft,

That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget you.