Henry V (play)

thumb|Title page of the first quarto (1600) thumb|O for a Muse of fire! Henry V is a play by William Shakespeare based on the life of King Henry V of England. It deals with the events immediately before and after the Battle of Agincourt during the Hundred Years' War. The play is thought to date from the first few months of 1599 and is the final part of a tetralogy, preceded by Richard II, Henry IV, Part I and Henry IV, Part II. W. G. Clark; W. A. Wright (eds.) The Works of William Shakespeare, vol. 4 (Cambridge and London: Macmillan and Co., 1864) Prologue thumb|... the very casquesThat did affright the air at Agincourt. O for a Muse of fire, that would ascendThe brightest heaven of invention,A kingdom for a stage, princes to actAnd monarchs to behold the swelling scene!Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,Assume the port of Mars, and at his heels,Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fireCrouch for employment. Chorus, l. 1 But pardon, gentles all, The flat unraised spirits that have dared 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? Chorus, l. 8 Act I Scene i Consideration, like an angel, cameAnd whipp'd the offending Adam out of him,Leaving his body as a paradise,To envelope and contain celestial spirits. Archbishop of Canterbury, l. 28 Never was such a sudden scholar made. Archbishop of Canterbury, l. 33 Never came reformation in a flood. Archbishop of Canterbury, l. 34 List his discourse of war, and you shall hearA fearful battle render'd you in music. Archbishop of Canterbury, l. 42 Turn him to any cause of policy,The Gordian knot of it he will unloose,Familiar as his garter: that, when he speaks,The air, a charter'd libertine, is still. Archbishop of Canterbury, l. 45 The strawberry grows underneath the nettleAnd wholesome berries thrive and ripen bestNeighbour'd by fruit of baser quality. Bishop of Ely, l. 60 It must be so; for miracles are ceased;And therefore we must needs admit the meansHow things are perfected. Archbishop of Canterbury, l. 67 Scene ii    Take heed how you impawn our person,How you awake our sleeping sword of war. King Henry, l. 20 For government, though high and low and lower,Put into parts, doth keep in one consent,Congreeing in a full and natural close,Like music. Duke of Exeter, l. 180 So work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king and officers of sorts; Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armèd in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, Delivering o'er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone. Archbishop of Canterbury, l. 187 Either our history shall with full mouthSpeak freely of our acts, or else our grave,Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph. King Henry, l. 230 We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;His present and your pains we thank you for:When we have match'd our rackets to these balls,We will, in France, by God's grace, play a setShall strike his father's crown into the hazard. King Henry, l. 259    As 'tis ever commonThat men are merriest when they are from home. King Henry, l. 271 Act II Prologue 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! Chorus, l. 15 Scene i Base is the slave that pays. Pistol, l. 91 Scene ii If little faults, proceeding on distemper,Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eyeWhen capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd and digested,Appear before us? King Henry, l. 54 You must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy;For your own reasons turn into your bosoms,As dogs upon their masters, worrying you. King Henry, l. 81 Treason and murder ever kept together,As two yoke-devils sworn to either's purpose,Working so grossly in a natural cause,That admiration did not whoop at them. King Henry, l. 105 Scene iii Bardolph, be blithe: Nym, rouse thy vaunting veins:Boy, bristle thy courage up; for Falstaff he is dead,And we must yearn therefore. Pistol, l. 5 Bardolph: Would I were with him, wheresome'er he is, either in heaven or in hell!Hostess: Nay, sure, he's not in hell: he's in Arthur's bosom, if ever man went to Arthur's bosom. A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. "How now, Sir John!" quoth I: "what, man! be o' good cheer." So a' cried out "God, God, God!" three or four times. Now I, to comfort him, bid him a' should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So a' bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and they were as cold as any stone, and so upward and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.Nym: They say he cried out of sack.Hostess: Ay, that a' did.Bardolph: And of women.Hostess: Nay, that a' did not.Boy: Yes, that a' did; and said they were devils incarnate.Hostess: A' could never abide carnation; 'twas a colour he never liked.Boy: A' said once, the devil would have him about women.Hostess: A' did in some sort, indeed, handle women; but then he was rheumatic, and talked of the whore of Babylon.Boy: Do you not remember, a' saw a flea stick upon Bardolph's nose, and a' said it was a black soul burning in hell-fire?Bardolph: Well, the fuel is gone that maintained that fire: that's all the riches I got in his service. l. 7 Shall we shog? Nym, l. 43 My love, give me thy lips. Look to my chattels and my movables: Let senses rule; the word is 'Pitch and Pay:' Trust none; For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck. Pistol, l. 45 Yoke-fellows in arms, Let us to France; like horse-leeches, my boys, To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck! Pistol, l. 52 Scene iv Covering discretion with a coat of folly. Constable, l. 38 In cases of defence 'tis best to weighThe enemy more mighty than he seems:So the proportions of defence are fill'd;Which of a weak and niggardly projectionDoth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scantingA little cloth. Dauphin, l. 43 Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sinAs self-neglecting. Dauphin, l. 74 Act III thumb|Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;Or close the wall up with our English dead! thumb|When lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. Scene i 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 manAs modest stillness and humility:But when the blast of war blows in our ears,Then imitate the action of the tiger;Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. King Henry, l. 1 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. King Henry, l. 17 Dishonour not your mothers; now attest That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. King Henry, l. 22 And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture. King Henry, l. 25 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!' King Henry, l. 31 Scene ii I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. Boy, l. 10 Men of few words are the best men. Boy, l. 34 Scene iii This is the latest parle we will admit: Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves; Or like to men proud of destruction Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier, A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the battery once again, I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried. The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants. What is it then to me, if impious war, Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends, Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats Enlink'd to waste and desolation? What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause, If your pure maidens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing violation? What rein can hold licentious wickedness When down the hill he holds his fierce career? We may as bootless spend our vain command Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil As send precepts to the leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people, Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil and villany. If not, why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls, Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? will you yield, and this avoid, Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd? King Henry, l. 2 Scene iv De arm, de elbow, de nick, de sin, de foot, de coun. Katharine, l. 53; learning English Scene vi For when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. King Henry, l. 104 (or sc. viii) I thought, upon one pair of English legsDid march three Frenchmen. King Henry, l. 141 Scene vii When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk. Orleans, l. 14 The basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes. Orleans, l. 17 You may as well say, that’s a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion. Orleans, l. 134 Act IV thumb|It yearns me not, if men my garments wear;Such outward things dwell not in my desires:But, if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive. Prologue Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. Chorus, l. 1 From camp to camp through the foul womb of nightThe hum of either army stilly sounds,That the fix'd sentinels almost receiveThe secret whispers of each other’s watch.Fire answers fire, and through their paly flamesEach battle sees the other’s umber'd face:Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighsPiercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tents,The armourers, accomplishing the knights,With busy hammers closing rivets up,Give dreadful note of preparation. Chorus, l. 4 Scene i There is some soul of goodness in things evil,Would men observingly distil it out.For our bad neighbour makes us early stirrers,Which is both healthful and good husbandry:Besides, they are our outward consciences. King Henry, l. 4 And when the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt,The organs, though defunct and dead before,Break up their drowsy grave and newly move,With casted slough and fresh legerity. King Henry, l. 20 The King’s a bawcock, and a heart of gold,A lad of life, an imp of fame;Of parents good, of fist most valiant.I kiss his dirty shoe, and from heart-stringI love the lovely bully. Pistol, l. 44 But if the cause be not good, the king himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads, chopped off in a battle, shall join together at the latter day and cry all "We died at such a place"; some swearing, some crying for a surgeon, some upon their wives left poor behind them, some upon the debts they owe, some upon their children rawly left. I am afeard there are few die well that die in a battle; for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their argument? Michael Williams, l. 127 Every subject’s duty is the king’s; but every subject’s soul is his own. King Henry, l. 165 That’s a perilous shot out of an elder-gun. Williams, l. 185    What infinite heart's-easeMust kings neglect, that private men enjoy!And what have kings, that privates have not too,Save ceremony, save general ceremony? King Henry, l. 221    What art thou, thou idol ceremony?What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st moreOf mortal griefs than do thy worshippers? King Henry, l. 225 O ceremony, show me but thy worth!What is thy soul of adoration?Art thou aught else but place, degree and form,Creating awe and fear in other men? King Henry, l. 229 What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,But poison'd flattery? King Henry, l. 235    The wretched slave,Who with a body fill'd and vacant mindGets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread. King Henry, l. 253    Such a wretch,Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep,Had the fore-hand and vantage of a king. King Henry, l. 263 O God of battles! steel my soldiers' hearts;Possess them not with fear; take from them nowThe sense of reckoning, if the opposèd numbersPluck their hearts from them. King Henry, l. 274 Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay,Who twice a-day their wither'd hands hold upToward heaven, to pardon blood; and I have builtTwo chantries, where the sad and solemn priestsSing still for Richard's soul. King Henry, l. 282 Scene iii thumb|                 Then shall our names,Familiar in his mouth as household words—* * * * * *Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered. thumb|We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. thumb|And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here,And hold their manhoods cheap, whiles any speaks,That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. And good luck go with thee! Duke of Bedford, l. 11 If we are mark'd to die, we are enoughTo do our country loss; and if to live,The fewer men, the greater share of honour.God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;It yearns me not if men my garments wear;Such outward things dwell not in my desires:But if it be a sin to covet honour,I am the most offending soul alive. King Henry, l. 20; variants: 'enow' instead of 'enough' O, do not wish one more!Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,That he which hath no stomach to this fight,Let him depart; his passport shall be made,And crowns for convoy put into his purse:We would not die in that man's company,That fears his fellowship to die with us. King Henry, l. 32 This day is call'd the feast of Crispian:He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,And rouse him at the name of Crispian.He that shall live this day, and see old age,Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:'Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,But he'll remember with advantagesWhat feats he did that day: then shall our names,Familiar in his mouth as household words,Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.This story shall the good man teach his son;And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,From this day to the ending of the world,But we in it shall be remembered;We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;For he to-day that sheds his blood with meShall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,This day shall gentle his condition:And gentlemen in England now a-bedShall think themselves accursed they were not here,And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaksThat fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. King Henry, l. 40 The man that once did sell the lion's skinWhile the beast lived, was killed with hunting him. King Henry, l. 93 Scene iv The saying is true, "The empty vessel makes the greatest sound." Boy, l. 67 Scene v    All is confounded, all!Reproach and everlasting shameSits mocking in our plumes. Dauphin, l. 3 Let life be short; else shame will be too long. Duke of Bourbon, l. 23 Scene vi I had not so much of man in me,And all my mother came into mine eyesAnd gave me up to tears. Duke of Exeter, l. 30 Scene vii There is a river in Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth; ... and there is salmons in poth. Fluellen, l. 24 Scene viii An arrant traitor as any's in the universal 'orld, or in France, or in England. Fluellen, l. 8    O God, thy arm was here;And not to us, but to thy arm alone,Ascribe we all! King Henry, l. 100 Act V thumb|Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion: we are the makers of manners, Kate. Prologue    But now behold,In the quick forge and working-house of thought,How London doth pour out her citizens! Chorus, l. 22 Scene i There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. Fluellen, l. 3 By this leek, I will most horribly revenge: I eat and eat, I swear. Pistol, l. 42 All hell shall stir for this! Pistol, l. 62 Scene ii    Peace,Dear nurse of arts, plenties and joyful births. Duke of Burgundy, l. 34 The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forthThe freckled cowslip, burnet and green clover,Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,Conceives by idleness and nothing teemsBut hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,Losing both beauty and utility. Duke of Burgundy, l. 48    Most fair,Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier termsSuch as will enter at a lady's earAnd plead his love-suit to her gentle heart? King Henry, l. 98 A fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun and not the moon; for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly. If thou would have such a one, take me: and take me, take a soldier; take a soldier, take a king: and what say'st thou then to my love? Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee. King Henry, l. 157 If he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. King Henry, l. 231 It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married. King Henry, l. 254 Nice customs courtesy to great kings. King Henry, l. 257 Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country's fashion: we are the makers of manners, Kate. King Henry, l. 258 Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accordIn their sweet bosoms. King Charles, l. 334 God, the best maker of all marriages,Combine your hearts in one. Queen Isabel, l. 340 Epilogue This star of England: Fortune made his sword;By which the world's best garden he achieved. Chorus, l. 6 Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd KingOf France and England, did this king succeed;Whose state so many had the managing,That they lost France and made his England bleed. Chorus, l. 9 External links The Life of Henry the Fifth at Wikisource The Complete Works of William Shakespeare at Wikisource Henry V quotes translated into modern English Category:Shakespearean histories