And let us do it with no fhew of fear ;
No, with no more than if we heard that England
Were bufied with a Whitfon morris-dance:
For, my good Liege, fhe is fo idly king'd,
Her fcepter fo fantastically born,
By a vain, giddy, fhallow, humorous youth,
That fear attends her not.
Con. O peace, Prince Dauphin,
You are too much mistaken in this King:
Question your grace the late ambaffadors,
With what great ftate he heard their embaffie,
How well fupply'd with noble counsellors,
How modeft in exception, and withal
How terrible in constant resolution:
And you shall find his vanities fore-spent
Were but the out-fide of the Roman Brutus,
Covering difcretion with a coat of folly;
As gardeners do with ordure hide thofe roots
That shall first spring and be most delicate.
Dau. Well, 'tis not fo, my lord high constable.
But tho' we think it fo, it is no matter:
In causes of defence, 'tis beft to weigh
The enemy more mighty than he feems,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd;
Which of a weak and niggardly projection,
Doth like a mifer fpoil his coat with scanting
A little cloth.
Fr. King. Think we King Harry strong;
And Princes look you ftrongly arm to meet him.
The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us;
And he is bred out of that bloody ftrain
That haunted us in our familiar paths:
Witness our too much memorable shame,
When Creffy battel fatally was ftruck,
And all our princes captiv'd by the hand
Of that black name, Edward the Prince of Wales:
While that his mountain fire, on mountain standing,
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden fun,
Saw his heroick feed, and smil'd to see him
This part much inlarg'd fince the firft writing.
Mangle the work of nature, and deface
The patterns that by God and by French fathers
Had twenty years been made. This is a tem
Of that victorious ftock; and let us fear
The native mightinefs and fate of him.
Meff. Ambaffadors from Harry King of England Do crave admittance to your Majesty.
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 Moft fpend their mouths, when what they feem to
Runs far before them. Good my Soveraign,
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.
Fr. King. From our brother England? Exe. From him; and thus he greets your Majesty : 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-vanish'd days,
Nor from the duft of old oblivion rak'd;
He fends you this most memorable line,
In every branch truly demonftrative,
Willing you over-look his pedigree;
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 elfe 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 compell. 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, For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, That shall be swallow'd in this controverfie. This is his claim, his threatning and my message; 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.
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.
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 Majesty;
He'll call you to fo hot an answer for it,
That caves and womby vaultages of France
Shall chide your trefpafs, and return your mock
In fecond accent to his ordinance.
Dau. Say, if my father d 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 miftrefs 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 shall read
In your own loffes, if he stay in France.
Fr. King. To-morrow you fhall know our mind at
full.
[Flourish. Exe. Difpatch us with all speed, left that our King Come here himself to queftion our delay,
For he is footed in this land already.
Fr. King. You fhall be soon dispatch'd with fair con-
ditions:
A night is but fmall breath, and little pause,
To answer matters of this confequence.
HUS with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies,
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppofe that you have seen
The well-appointed King at Dover Peer
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With filken ftreamers the young Phoebus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle fhip boys climbing,
Here the fhrill whistle which doth order give
To founds confus'd; behold the threaden fails,
Born with th' invisible 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 still,
Guarded with grandfires, babies and old women,
Or paft 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
This whole aft (and also the rest of the play) very much enlarged and improved by the author fince the editi ons of 1600, and 1608.
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