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Henry V
·II ii 83 ·
Verse
King Henry The mercy that was quick in us but late, By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd: 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. See you, my princes, and my noble peers, These English monsters! My Lord of Cambridge here, You know how apt our love was to accord To furnish him with all appertinents Belonging to his honour; and this man Hath, for a few light crowns, lightly conspired, And sworn unto the practises of France, To kill us here in Hampton: to the which This knight, no less for bounty bound to us Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. But, O, What shall I say to thee, Lord Scroop? thou cruel, Ingrateful, savage and inhuman creature! Thou that didst bear the key of all my counsels, That knew'st the very bottom of my soul, That almost mightst have coin'd me into gold, Wouldst thou have practised on me for thy use, May it be possible, that foreign hire Could out of thee extract one spark of evil That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange, That, though the truth of it stands off as gross As black and white, my eye will scarcely see it. 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: But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring in Wonder to wait on treason and on murder: And whatsoever cunning fiend it was That wrought upon thee so preposterously Hath got the voice in hell for excellence: All other devils that suggest by treasons Do botch and bungle up damnation With patches, colours, and with forms being fetch'd From glistering semblances of piety; But he that temper'd thee bade thee stand up, Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Unless to dub thee with the name of traitor. If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus Should with his lion gait walk the whole world, He might return to vasty Tartar back, And tell the legions 'I can never win A soul so easy as that Englishman's.' O, how hast thou with 'jealousy infected The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful? Why, so didst thou: seem they grave and learned? Why, so didst thou: come they of noble family? Why, so didst thou: seem they religious? Why, so didst thou: or are they spare in diet, Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger, Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood, Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement, Not working with the eye without the ear, And but in purged judgment trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem: And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, To mark the full-fraught man and best indued With some suspicion. I will weep for thee; For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like Another fall of man. Their faults are open: Arrest them to the answer of the law; And God acquit them of their practises! |
Henry V follows the young English king as he transforms from the wayward Prince Hal into a decisive military leader. The play opens with Henry’s court debating his claim to the French throne through his great-great-grandmother’s lineage. When the French Dauphin mockingly sends Henry tennis balls as a gift, suggesting he should stick to games rather than warfare, Henry uses this insult as justification to invade France. He sentences three conspirators - Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey - to death for plotting against his life, then sets sail for France with his army.
The English forces land in France and lay siege to Harfleur, which Henry captures after his famous “Once more unto the breach” speech. However, his army is weakened by disease and casualties. Meanwhile, we follow the tavern companions from Henry’s youth - Pistol, Nym, Bardolph, and Hostess Quickly, who reports the death of Falstaff. The English army, vastly outnumbered, faces the French at Agincourt. On the eve of battle, Henry disguises himself and walks among his soldiers to gauge their morale, engaging in philosophical discussions about kingship and responsibility.
The Battle of Agincourt proves to be a decisive English victory despite overwhelming French numerical superiority. Henry orders the killing of French prisoners when he believes the French are regrouping, and becomes enraged when he discovers French forces have killed the English boys guarding the baggage train. The English suffer minimal casualties while French losses are enormous. The play concludes with Henry’s courtship of Princess Katherine of France, conducted partly in broken French and English. Their marriage seals the Treaty of Troyes, which names Henry as heir to the French throne, though the Chorus epilogue reminds the audience that Henry’s son would later lose these French territories.