Henry V

Admit me chorus to this history,

Who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray

Gently to hear, kindly to judge our play.

The King is full of grace and fair regard.

And a true lover of the holy Church.

The courses of his youth promised it not.

The breath no sooner left his father’s body

But that his wildness, mortified in him,

Seemed to die too. Yea, at that very moment

Consideration like an angel came

And whipped th’ offending Adam out of him,

Leaving his body as a paradise

T’ envelop and contain celestial spirits.

Never was such a sudden scholar made,

Never came reformation in a flood

With such a heady currance scouring faults,

Nor never Hydra-headed willfulness

So soon did lose his seat, and all at once,

As in this king.

We are blessèd in the change.

Hear him but reason in divinity

And, all-admiring, with an inward wish

You would desire the King were made a prelate;

Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs,

You would say it hath been all in all his study;

List his discourse of war, and you shall hear

A fearful battle rendered you in music.

But, my good lord,

How now for mitigation of this bill

Urged by the Commons?

It must be thought on. If it pass against us,

We lose the better half of our possession,

For all the temporal lands which men devout

By testament have given to the Church

Would they strip from us.

Doth his Majesty

Incline to it or no?

He seems indifferent,

Or rather swaying more upon our part

Than cherishing th’ exhibitors against us;

For I have made an offer to his Majesty —

Upon our spiritual convocation

And in regard of causes now in hand,

Which I have opened to his Grace at large,

As touching France — to give a greater sum

Than ever at one time the clergy yet

Did to his predecessors part withal.

How did this offer seem received, my lord?

With good acceptance of his Majesty —

Save that there was not time enough to hear,

As I perceived his Grace would fain have done,

The severals and unhidden passages

Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms,

And generally to the crown and seat of France,

Derived from Edward, his great-grandfather.

What was th’ impediment that broke this off?

The French ambassador upon that instant

Craved audience. And the hour, I think, is come

To give him hearing. Is it four' o’clock?

It is.

Then go we in to know his embassy,

Which I could with a ready guess declare

Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.

May I with right and conscience make this claim?

The sin upon my head, dread sovereign.

Gracious lord,

Stand for your own, unwind your bloody flag,

Look back into your mighty ancestors.

Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s tomb,

From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit

And your great uncle’s, Edward the Black Prince,

Who on the French ground played a tragedy,

Making defeat on the full power of France

Whiles his most mighty father on a hill

Stood smiling to behold his lion’s whelp

Forage in blood of French nobility.

Awake remembrance of these valiant dead

And with your puissant arm renew their feats.

You are their heir, you sit upon their throne,

The blood and courage that renownèd them

Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant liege

Is in the very May-morn of his youth,

Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.

Never king of England

Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects,

Whose hearts have left their bodies here in England

And lie pavilioned in the fields of France.

O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege,

With blood and sword and fire to win your right,

In aid whereof we of the spiritualty

Will raise your Highness such a mighty sum

As never did the clergy at one time

Bring in to any of your ancestors.

We must not only arm t’ invade the French,

But lay down our proportions to defend

Against the Scot, who will make road upon us

With all advantages.

Divide your happy England into four?

Whereof take you one quarter into France,

And you withal shall make all of Gallia shake.

If we, with thrice such powers left at home,

Cannot defend our own doors from the dog,

Let us be worried, and our nation lose

The name of hardiness and policy.

I doubt not that, since we are well persuaded

We carry not a heart with us from hence

That grows not in a fair consent with ours,

Nor leave not one behind that doth not wish

Success and conquest to attend on us.

Never was monarch better feared and loved

Than is your Majesty. There’s not, I think, a subject

That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness

Under the sweet shade of your government.

O, let us yet be merciful.

So may your Highness, and yet punish too.

And now to our French causes.

Who are the late commisioners?

I one, my lord.

Your highness bade me ask for it today.

Their cheeks are paper. — Why, what read you there

That have so cowarded and chased your blood

Out of appearance?

I do confess my fault,

And do submit me to your Highness’ mercy.

Our purposes God justly hath discovered,

And I repent my fault more than my death,

Which I beseech your Highness to forgive,

Although my body pay the price of it.

For me, the gold of France did not seduce,

Although I did admit it as a motive

The sooner to effect what I intended;

But God be thankèd for prevention,

Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice,

Beseeching God and you to pardon me.