Henry V - Act 1

Uploaded by The16thCavern on 10.04.2012

Act I of Henry the Fifth by William Shakespeare
Dramatis personae Alice read by Caroline Sophie
The Archbishop of Canterbury read by Sean Randall
Bardolph read by John Fricker Bates, soldier in King Henry’s army, read
by David Lawrence Bishop of Ely read by Algy Pug
The Boy read by Aldor Chorus read by Elizabeth Klett
Constable of France read by Lars Rolander Court read by Dale Burgess
Duke of Bedford read by Dale Burgess Duke of Bourbon read by Algy Pug
Duke of Burgundy read by Algy Pug Duke of Exeter, uncle to Henry IV, great uncle
to Henry V, read by David Goldfarb The Duke of Gloucester read by Tadhg Hynes
Duke of Orleans read by Ric F Duke of York, Earl of Cambridge, Earl of Salisbury,
Earl of Warwick read by Algy Pug Earl of Westmoreland read by Timothy Ferguson
First Ambassador read by Dale Burgess Fluellen read by Martin Geeson
French soldier read by Nadine Eckert-Boulet Governor of Harfleur read by Dale Burgess
Gower read by Bruce Pirie Grandpre read by Dale Burgess
Henry V read by Arielle Lipshaw Herald read by Maria Therese
Hostess Quickly, hostess of a tavern in East Cheap, read by Elizabeth Klett
Jamy read by Len Nicholson Katharine read by ezwa
King of France read by Paul Adams Lewis the Dauphin read by Nadine Eckert-Boulet
Lord Scroop read by Bruce Pirie Macmorris read by Tadhg Hynes
Messenger read by Elizabeth Klett Montjoy read by Amy Gramour
The role of Nym read by Sandra G Pistol read by Algy Pug
Queen Isabel read by Kalynda Rambures, a French Lord, read by Elizabeth
Klett Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Thomas Grey read
by Dale Burgess Williams read by Ty Unglebower
Narrated by Elizabeth Klett
[Enter Chorus]
Chorus. O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And 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 fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, and 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?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; Into a thousand parts divide on man,
And make imaginary puissance; Think when we talk of horses, that you see
them Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving
earth; For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck
our kings, Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history; Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. [Exit]
Act I, Scene
London. An ante-chamber in the KING’S palace.
Archbishop of Canterbury. My lord, I'll tell you; that self bill is urged,
Which in the eleventh year of the last king's reign
Was like, and had indeed against us pass'd, But that the scambling and unquiet time
Did push it out of farther question. Bishop of Ely. But how, my lord, shall we
resist it now? Archbishop of Canterbury. It must be thought
on. If it pass against us, We lose the better half of our possession:
For all the temporal lands which men devout By testament have given to the church
Would they strip from us; being valued thus: As much as would maintain, to the king's honour,
Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, Six thousand and two hundred good esquires;
And, to relief of lazars and weak age, Of indigent faint souls past corporal toil.
A hundred almshouses right well supplied; And to the coffers of the king beside,
A thousand pounds by the year: thus runs the bill.
Bishop of Ely. This would drink deep. Archbishop of Canterbury. 'Twould drink the
cup and all. Bishop of Ely. But what prevention?
Archbishop of Canterbury. The king is full of grace and fair regard.
Bishop of Ely. And a true lover of the holy church.
Archbishop of Canterbury. The courses of his youth promised it not.
The breath no sooner left his father's body, But that his wildness, mortified in him,
Seem'd to die too; yea, at that very moment Consideration, like an angel, came
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him, Leaving his body as a paradise,
To envelop and contain celestial spirits. Never was such a sudden scholar made;
Never came reformation in a flood, With such a heady currance, scouring faults
Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness So soon did lose his seat and all at once
As in this king. Bishop of Ely. We are blessed in the change.
Archbishop of Canterbury. Hear him but reason in divinity,
And all-admiring with an inward wish You would desire the king were made a prelate:
Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say it hath been all in all his
study: List his discourse of war, and you shall hear
A fearful battle render'd you in music: 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, And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears,
To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences; So that the art and practic part of life
Must be the mistress to this theoric: Which is a wonder how his grace should glean
it, Since his addiction was to courses vain,
His companies unletter'd, rude and shallow, His hours fill'd up with riots, banquets,
sports, And never noted in him any study,
Any retirement, any sequestration From open haunts and popularity.
Bishop of Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the nettle
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality:
And so the prince obscured his contemplation Under the veil of wildness; which, no doubt,
Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night, Unseen, yet crescive in his faculty.
Archbishop of Canterbury. It must be so; for miracles are ceased;
And therefore we must needs admit the means How things are perfected.
Bishop of Ely. But, my good lord, How now for mitigation of this bill
Urged by the commons? Doth his majesty Incline to it, or no?
Archbishop of Canterbury. He seems indifferent, Or rather swaying more upon our part
Than cherishing the exhibiters against us; For I have made an offer to his majesty,
Upon our spiritual convocation And in regard of causes now in hand,
Which I have open'd to his grace at large, As touching France, to give a greater sum
Than ever at one time the clergy yet Did to his predecessors part withal.
Bishop of Ely. How did this offer seem received, my lord?
Archbishop of Canterbury. With good acceptance of his majesty;
Save that there was not time enough to hear, As I perceived his grace would fain have done,
The severals and unhidden passages Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms
And generally to the crown and seat of France Derived from Edward, his great-grandfather.
Bishop of Ely. What was the impediment that broke this off?
Archbishop of Canterbury. The French ambassador upon that instant
Craved audience; and the hour, I think, is come
To give him hearing: is it four o'clock? Bishop of Ely. It is.
Archbishop of Canterbury. Then go we in, to know his embassy;
Which I could with a ready guess declare, Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.
Bishop of Ely. I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it.
Act I, Scene
The same. The Presence chamber.
Henry V. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury? Duke of Exeter. Not here in presence.
Henry V. Send for him, good uncle. Earl of Westmoreland. Shall we call in the
ambassador, my liege? Henry V. Not yet, my cousin: we would be resolved,
Before we hear him, of some things of weight That task our thoughts, concerning us and
France. [Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, and the
Archbishop of Canterbury. God and his angels guard your sacred throne
And make you long become it! Henry V. Sure, we thank you.
My learned lord, we pray you to proceed And justly and religiously unfold
Why the law Salique that they have in France Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim:
And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your
reading, Or nicely charge your understanding soul
With opening titles miscreate, whose right Suits not in native colours with the truth;
For God doth know how many now in health Shall drop their blood in approbation
Of what your reverence shall incite us to. Therefore take heed how you impawn our person,
How you awake our sleeping sword of war: We charge you, in the name of God, take heed;
For never two such kingdoms did contend Without much fall of blood; whose guiltless
drops Are every one a woe, a sore complaint
'Gainst him whose wrong gives edge unto the swords
That make such waste in brief mortality. Under this conjuration, speak, my lord;
For we will hear, note and believe in heart That what you speak is in your conscience
wash'd As pure as sin with baptism.
Archbishop of Canterbury. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, and you peers,
That owe yourselves, your lives and services To this imperial throne. There is no bar
To make against your highness' claim to France But this, which they produce from Pharamond,
'In terram Salicam mulieres ne succedant:' 'No woman shall succeed in Salique land:'
Which Salique land the French unjustly gloze To be the realm of France, and Pharamond
The founder of this law and female bar. Yet their own authors faithfully affirm
That the land Salique is in Germany, Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe;
Where Charles the Great, having subdued the Saxons,
There left behind and settled certain French; Who, holding in disdain the German women
For some dishonest manners of their life, Establish'd then this law; to wit, no female
Should be inheritrix in Salique land: Which Salique, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and
Sala, Is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen.
Then doth it well appear that Salique law Was not devised for the realm of France:
Nor did the French possess the Salique land Until four hundred one and twenty years
After defunction of King Pharamond, Idly supposed the founder of this law;
Who died within the year of our redemption Four hundred twenty-six; and Charles the Great
Subdued the Saxons, and did seat the French Beyond the river Sala, in the year
Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say,
King Pepin, which deposed Childeric, Did, as heir general, being descended
Of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair, Make claim and title to the crown of France.
Hugh Capet also, who usurped the crown Of Charles the duke of Lorraine, sole heir
male Of the true line and stock of Charles the
Great, To find his title with some shows of truth,
'Through, in pure truth, it was corrupt and naught,
Convey'd himself as heir to the Lady Lingare, Daughter to Charlemain, who was the son
To Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son Of Charles the Great. Also King Lewis the
Tenth, Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet,
Could not keep quiet in his conscience, Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied
That fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare,
Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of Lorraine: By the which marriage the line of Charles
the Great Was re-united to the crown of France.
So that, as clear as is the summer's sun. King Pepin's title and Hugh Capet's claim,
King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear To hold in right and title of the female:
So do the kings of France unto this day; Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law
To bar your highness claiming from the female, And rather choose to hide them in a net
Than amply to imbar their crooked titles Usurp'd from you and your progenitors.
Henry V. May I with right and conscience make this claim?
Archbishop of Canterbury. The sin upon my head, dread sovereign!
For in the book of Numbers is it writ, When the man dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord, Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag;
Look back into your mighty ancestors: Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's
tomb, From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit,
And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince, Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy,
Making defeat on the full power of France, Whiles his most mighty father on a hill
Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp Forage in blood of French nobility.
O noble English. that could entertain With half their forces the full Pride of France
And let another half stand laughing by, All out of work and cold for action!
Bishop of Ely. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead
And with your puissant arm renew their feats: You are their heir; you sit upon their throne;
The blood and courage that renowned them Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant
liege Is in the very May-morn of his youth,
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. Duke of Exeter. Your brother kings and monarchs
of the earth Do all expect that you should rouse yourself,
As did the former lions of your blood. Earl of Westmoreland. They know your grace
hath cause and means and might; So hath your highness; never king of England
Had nobles richer and more loyal subjects, Whose hearts have left their bodies here in
England And lie pavilion'd in the fields of France.
Archbishop of Canterbury. O, let their bodies follow, my dear liege,
With blood and sword and fire to win your right;
In aid whereof we of the spiritualty Will raise your highness such a mighty sum
As never did the clergy at one time Bring in to any of your ancestors.
Henry V. We must not only arm to invade the French,
But lay down our proportions to defend Against the Scot, who will make road upon
us With all advantages.
Archbishop of Canterbury. They of those marches, gracious sovereign,
Shall be a wall sufficient to defend Our inland from the pilfering borderers.
Henry V. We do not mean the coursing snatchers only,
But fear the main intendment of the Scot, Who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us;
For you shall read that my great-grandfather Never went with his forces into France
But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom Came pouring, like the tide into a breach,
With ample and brim fulness of his force, Galling the gleaned land with hot assays,
Girding with grievous siege castles and towns; That England, being empty of defence,
Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood. Archbishop of Canterbury. She hath been then
more fear'd than harm'd, my liege; For hear her but exampled by herself:
When all her chivalry hath been in France And she a mourning widow of her nobles,
She hath herself not only well defended But taken and impounded as a stray
The King of Scots; whom she did send to France, To fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings
And make her chronicle as rich with praise As is the ooze and bottom of the sea
With sunken wreck and sunless treasuries. Earl of Westmoreland. But there's a saying
very old and true, 'If that you will France win,
Then with Scotland first begin:' For once the eagle England being in prey,
To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot Comes sneaking and so sucks her princely eggs,
Playing the mouse in absence of the cat, To tear and havoc more than she can eat.
Duke of Exeter. It follows then the cat must stay at home:
Yet that is but a crush'd necessity, Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries,
And pretty traps to catch the petty thieves. While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,
The advised head defends itself at home; 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. Archbishop of Canterbury. Therefore doth heaven
divide The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavour in continual motion; To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience: for 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, armed 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. I this infer, That many things, having full reference
To one consent, may work contrariously: As many arrows, loosed several ways,
Come to one mark; as many ways meet in one town;
As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea; As many lines close in the dial's centre;
So may a thousand actions, once afoot. End in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my liege. Divide your happy England into four;
Whereof take you one quarter into France, And you withal shall make all Gallia shake.
If we, with thrice such powers left at home, Cannot defend our own doors from the dog,
Let us be worried and our nation lose The name of hardiness and policy.
Henry V. Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.
[Exeunt some Attendants] 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 worshipp'd 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. First Ambassador. May't please your majesty
to give us leave Freely to render what we have in charge;
Or shall we sparingly show you far off The Dauphin's meaning and our embassy?
Henry V. We are no tyrant, but a Christian king;
Unto whose grace our passion is as subject As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons:
Therefore with frank and with uncurbed plainness Tell us the Dauphin's mind.
First Ambassador. Thus, then, in few. Your highness, lately sending into France,
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right Of your great predecessor, King Edward the
Third. In answer of which claim, the prince our master
Says that you savour too much of your youth, And bids you be advised there's nought in
France That can be with a nimble galliard won;
You cannot revel into dukedoms there. He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit,
This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim
Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks. Henry V. What treasure, uncle?
Duke of Exeter. Tennis-balls, my liege. Henry V. We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant
with us; His present and your pains we thank you for:
When we have march'd 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 disturb'd
With chaces. And we understand him well, How he comes o'er us with our wilder 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 licence; 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 working-days,
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. And tell the pleasant prince this mock of
his Hath turn'd his balls to gun-stones; and his
soul Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful
vengeance That shall fly with them: for many a thousand
widows Shall this his mock mock out of their dear
husbands; Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles
down; And some are yet ungotten and unborn
That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's scorn.
But this lies all within the will of God, To whom I do appeal; and in whose name
Tell you the Dauphin I am coming on, To venge me as I may and to put forth
My rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause. So get you hence in peace; and tell the Dauphin
His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep more than did laugh at
it. Convey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.
[Exeunt Ambassadors]
Duke of Exeter. This was a merry message. Henry V. We hope to make the sender blush
at it. Therefore, my lords, omit no happy hour
That may give furtherance to our expedition; For we have now no thought in us but France,
Save those to God, that run before our business. Therefore let our proportions for these wars
Be soon collected and all things thought upon That may with reasonable swiftness add
More feathers to our wings; for, God before, We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door.
Therefore let every man now task his thought, That this fair action may on foot be brought.
[Exeunt. Flourish]
End of Act I �