Henry V by William Shakespeare
Act 4 - Scene 0
Prologue.
Chorus : Now entertain conjecture of a time
[p]When creeping murmur and the
poring dark
[p]Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
[p]From camp to
camp through the foul womb of night
[p]The hum of either army stilly
sounds,
[p]That the fixed sentinels almost receive
[p]The secret
whispers of each other's watch:
[p]Fire answers fire, and through
their paly flames
[p]Each battle sees the other's umber'd
face;
[p]Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful
neighs
[p]Piercing the night's dull ear, and from the tents
[p]The
armourers, accomplishing the knights,
[p]With busy hammers closing
rivets up,
[p]Give dreadful note of preparation:
[p]The country cocks
do crow, the clocks do toll,
[p]And the third hour of drowsy morning
name.
[p]Proud of their numbers and secure in soul,
[p]The confident
and over-lusty French
[p]Do the low-rated English play at dice;
[p]And
chide the cripple tardy-gaited night
[p]Who, like a foul and ugly
witch, doth limp
[p]So tediously away. The poor condemned
English,
[p]Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires
[p]Sit patiently
and inly ruminate
[p]The morning's danger, and their gesture
sad
[p]Investing lank-lean; cheeks and war-worn coats
[p]Presenteth
them unto the gazing moon
[p]So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will
behold
[p]The royal captain of this ruin'd band
[p]Walking from watch
to watch, from tent to tent,
[p]Let him cry 'Praise and glory on his
head!'
[p]For forth he goes and visits all his host.
[p]Bids them good
morrow with a modest smile
[p]And calls them brothers, friends and
countrymen.
[p]Upon his royal face there is no note
[p]How dread an
army hath enrounded him;
[p]Nor doth he dedicate one jot of
colour
[p]Unto the weary and all-watched night,
[p]But freshly looks
and over-bears attaint
[p]With cheerful semblance and sweet
majesty;
[p]That every wretch, pining and pale before,
[p]Beholding
him, plucks comfort from his looks:
[p]A largess universal like the
sun
[p]His liberal eye doth give to every one,
[p]Thawing cold fear,
that mean and gentle all,
[p]Behold, as may unworthiness define,
[p]A
little touch of Harry in the night.
[p]And so our scene must to the
battle fly;
[p]Where--O for pity!--we shall much disgrace
[p]With four
or five most vile and ragged foils,
[p]Right ill-disposed in brawl
ridiculous,
[p]The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,
[p]Minding true
things by what their mockeries be.
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Next: Act 4 - Scene 1
