HENRY V.'S AUDIENCE OF FRENCH AMBASSADORS.

Henry V.-Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin. The KING ascends his throne.]

[Exit an ATTENDANT.

Now are we well resolved: and, by God's help,

And yours, the noble sinews of our power,

France being ours, we'll bend it to

our awe,

Or break it all to pieces: or there

we'll sit,

Ruling in large and ample empery, O'er France, and all her almost kingly dukedoms,

Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them:

Either our history shall, with full mouth,

Speak freely of our acts; or else our grave,

Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,

Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.

Enter AMBASSADORS OF FRANCE. Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure

Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear

Your greeting is from him, not from

the king.

[And as the Dauphin sends us tennis-balls,]

We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us:

His present, and your pains, we

thank you for:

When we have matched our rackets to these balls,

We will, in France, by God's grace, play a set,

Shall strike his father's crown into the hazard:

Tell him, he hath made a match with such a wrangler,

That all the courts of France will be disturbed

With chaces. And we understand him well,

How he comes o'er us with our wild

er days,

Not measuring what use we made of them.

We never valued this poor seat of England;

And therefore, living hence, did give ourself

To barbarous license; as 'tis ever common,

That men are merriest when they are from home.

But tell the Dauphin, — I will keep my state;

Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness,

When I do rouse me in my throne of France:

For that I have laid by my majesty, And plodded like a man for workingdays;

But I will rise there with so full a glory,

That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,

Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.

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 outer things dwell not in my desires:

But, if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man
from England:

God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor,

As one man more, methinks, would share from me,

For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more:

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,

That he who 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.

This day is called the feast of Crispian:

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand on tip-toe when this day is

named,

And rouse him at the name of Crispian:

Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered:

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 me,

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition: And gentlemen in England, now abed,

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And

hold their manhood cheap, while any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. SHAKSPEARE.

KING RICHARD'S SOLILOQUY.

Richard III. -Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this son of York;

And all the clouds, that lowered upon our house,

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.