<SPEECH 1><ACT ?><SCENE ?><0%>
<CHORUS>	<0%>
	O! for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
	The brightest heaven of invention;
	A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
	And monarchs to behold the swelling scene.
	Then should the war-like Harry, like himself,
	Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
	Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire
	Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles all,
	The flat unraised spirits that hath dar'd
	On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
	So great an object: can this cockpit hold
	The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
	Within this wooden O the very casques
	That did affright the air at Agincourt?
	O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
	Attest in little place a million;
	And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
	On your imaginary forces work.
	Suppose within the girdle of these walls
	Are now confin'd two mighty monarchies,
	Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
	The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
	Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts:
	Into a thousand parts divide one man,
	And make imaginary puissance;
	Think when we talk of horses that you see them
	Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth;
	For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
	Carry them here and there, jumping o'er times,
	Turning the accomplishment of many years
	Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
	Admit me Chorus to this history;
	Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
	Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>



<ACT 1>


</CHORUS>

<SPEECH 2><ACT 2><SCENE 2><12%>
<CHORUS>	<13%>
	Now all the youth of England are on fire,
	And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;
	Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought
	Reigns solely in the breast of every man:
	They sell the pasture now to buy the horse,
	Following the mirror of all Christian kings,
	With winged heels, as English Mercuries.
	For now sits Expectation in the air
	And hides a sword from hilts unto the point
	With crowns imperial, crowns and coronets,
	Promis'd to Harry and his followers.
	The French, advis'd by good intelligence
	Of this most dreadful preparation,
	Shake in their fear, and with pale policy
	Seek to divert the English purposes.
	O England! model to thy inward greatness,
	Like little body with a mighty heart,
	What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,
	Were all thy children kind and natural!
	But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out
	A nest of hollow bosoms, which he fills
	With treacherous crowns; and three corrupted men,
	One, Richard Earl of Cambridge, and the second,
	Henry Lord Scroop of Masham, and the third,
	Sir Thomas Grey, knight, of Northumberland,
	Have, for the gilt of France,—O guilt, indeed!—
	Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France;
	And by their hands this grace of kings must die,—
	If hell and treason hold their promises,—
	Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton.
	Linger your patience on; and well digest
	The abuse of distance while we force a play.
	The sum is paid; the traitors are agreed;
	The king is set from London; and the scene
	Is now transported, gentles, to Southampton:
	There is the playhouse now, there must you sit:
	And thence to France shall we convey you safe,
	And bring you back, charming the narrow seas
	To give you gentle pass; for, if we may,
	We'll not offend one stomach with our play.
	But, till the king come forth and not till then,
	Unto Southampton do we shift our scene.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>



</CHORUS>

<SPEECH 3><ACT 3><SCENE 4><29%>
<CHORUS>	<31%>
	Thus with imagin'd 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 Hampton pier
	Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
	With silken streamers the young Phœbus 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 confus'd; behold the threaden sails,
	Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
	Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
	Breasting the lofty surge. O! do but think
	You stand upon the rivage and behold
	A city on the 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 arriv'd to pith and puissance:
	For who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd
	With one appearing hair, that will not follow
	Those call'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
	Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
	Behold the ordenance on their carriages,
	With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
	Suppose the 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,
<STAGE DIR>
<Alarum; and chambers go off.>
</STAGE DIR>
	And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
	And eke out our performance with your mind.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>



</CHORUS>

<SPEECH 4><ACT 5><SCENE 8><83%>
<CHORUS>	<84%>
	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.
<STAGE DIR>
<Exit.>
</STAGE DIR>



</CHORUS>

