K. Hen.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ^note; ^note
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As 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 ^note up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let ^note the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang ^note and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril ^note wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on ^note, you noblest ^note English,
Whose blood is fet ^note 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:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men ^note of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle ^note of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining ^note upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry, England, ^note and Saint George!’ [Exeunt. ^note Alarum, and chambers ^note go off.

^note

Previous section

Next section