HENRY V

Henry | Act 3, Scene 1 | 1-34

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more…

Source
Arden 3 | T.W. Craik. New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 1995.

HENRY V
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more
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,                  5
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head                  10
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,          15
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noble English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,
Fathers that like so many Alexanders
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,         20
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you called fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,           25
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle 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.                     30
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot.
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’

Thought Counts
Arden 3 | 1995

Thoughts |TBD

Short: 3
Medium: 6
Long: 3
Total: 12

End-stopped: 8
Mid-line: 4

Periods: 10
Exclamations: 1
Questions: 0
Unfinished: 1

Objective

 

Helena needs the audience:
to show sympathy for her.

Helena needs Hermia:
to demonstrate satisfactory acknowledgement of her hurt

Thoughts
Arden 3 | 1995

HENRY V
1. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
2. In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,                                     5
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.
3. Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head                                       10
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.
4. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,                        15
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. 5. On, on, you noble English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,
Fathers that like so many Alexanders
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,                              20
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
6. Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you called fathers did beget you.
7. Be copy now to men of grosser blood
And teach them how to war. 8. And you, good yeomen,           25
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding 9. – which I doubt not,
For there is none of you so mean and base
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.                                          30
10. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. 11. The game’s afoot.
12. Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’

Line Analysis
Arden 3 | 1995

HENRY V
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more                 10
Or close the wall up with our English dead.                                     10 R
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man                                    10 R
As modest stillness and humility;                                                        10 R
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,                                   10                    5
Then imitate the action of the tiger:                                                   11 W
Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,                                        10
Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.                               10
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;                                                   10
Let it pry through the portage of the head                                       10                 10
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it                           11 W
As fearfully as doth a galled rock                                                         10 R
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,                                         10 R
Swilled with the wild and wasteful oceän.                                       10
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,                              10 or 10 R   15
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit                               11 W
To his full height. On, on, you noble English,                                  11 W
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,                                10
Fathers that like so many Alexanders                                                11 W
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,                             10 or 10 R    20
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.                          10 R
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest                                          10 R
That those whom you called fathers did beget you.                     11 W
Be copy now to men of grosser blood                                                10 R
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,                   11 W or 12   25
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here                        10 R
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear                                            10 or 10 R
That you are worth your breeding – which I doubt not,                 11 W
For there is none of you so mean and base                                      10 R
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.                                             10 R         30
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,                                    10 R
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot.                                    10
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge                                           10
Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’                           10 or 10 R

Phrasing and Tempo
Oxford | 2001

HENRY V
Once more unto the breach, ^ dear friends, ^ once more
Or close the wall up ^ with our English dead.   PAUSE?
In peace ^ there’s nothing so becomes a man →
As modest stillness ^ and humility;
But when the blast of war ^ blows in our ears,                  5
Then ^ imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, ^ conjure up the blood,
Disguise fair nature ^ with hard-favoured rage.   PAUSE?
Then ^ lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry ^ through the portage of the head  →              10
Like the brass cannon; ^ let the brow o’erwhelm it →*
As fearfully as doth a galled rock →
O’erhang and jutty ^ his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild ^ and wasteful ocean.  PAUSE?
Now ^ set the teeth ^ and stretch the nostril wide,          15
Hold hard the breath ^ and bend up every spirit
To his full height. ^ On, ^ on, ^ you noble English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,
Fathers that ^ like so many Alexanders →
Have ^ in these parts ^ from morn till even fought,                          20
And sheathed their swords ^ for lack of argument.    PAUSE?
Dishonour not your mothers; ^ now attest →*
That those whom you called fathers ^ did beget you.  PAUSE?
Be copy now ^ to men of grosser blood →*
And teach them how to war. ^ And you, ^ good yeomen,              25
Whose limbs were made in England, ^ show us here →
The mettle 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.  PAUSE?                   30
I see you stand ^ like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. ^ The game’s afoot.    PAUSE?
Follow your spirit, ^ and upon this charge →*
Cry ^ ‘God for Harry! ^ England ^ and Saint George!’

Repeated Sounds
Oxford | 2001

HENRY V
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more
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,                  5
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head                  10
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,          15
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noble English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,
Fathers that like so many Alexanders
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,         20
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you called fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,           25
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle 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.                     30
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot.
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’

Rhetoric
Oxford | 2001

imagery

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more
Or close the wall up with our English dead.

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Let it pry through the portage of the head                  10
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.

And you, good yeomen,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture;

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 upon the start.

metaphor

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Let it pry through the portage of the head

simile

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon;

let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.

On, on, you noble English,
Whose blood is fet 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.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start.

plain comparison

 

juxtaposition

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more
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:

Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.

antithesis

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more
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:

Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.

contradiction/paradox

 

personification

bend up every spirit
To his full height.

Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’

this and that

modest stillness and humility

Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,

O’erhang and jutty

the wild and wasteful ocean.

Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height.

mean and base

this, that, and another thing

Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’

enumerations

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then 1) imitate the action of the tiger:
2) Stiffen the sinews, 3) conjure up the blood,
4) Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.
5) Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
6) Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; 7) let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.
8) Now set the teeth and 9) stretch the nostril wide,
10) Hold hard the breath 11) and bend up every spirit
To his full height.

repetitions of words or phrases

once more (2x)

blood (2x)

spirit (2x)

on (2x)

fathers (2x)

noble (2x)

war (3x)

England/English (3x)

parenthesis

And you, (good yeomen),
(Whose limbs were made in England), show us here
The mettle of your pasture;

irony

 

puns and other wordplay

 

onomatopoeia

blast

swilled

sheathed

slips

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more
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,                  5
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, conjure up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage.
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let it pry through the portage of the head                  10
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o’erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O’erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,          15
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noble English,
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof,
Fathers that like so many Alexanders
Have in these parts from morn till even fought,         20
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you called fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen,           25
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle 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.                     30
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot.
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry! England and Saint George!’

Before and After
Oxford | 2001

PROLOGUE
Enter Chorus
Chorus
Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies
In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phoebus fanning:
Play with your fancies, and in them behold
Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
To sounds confused; behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow’d sea,
Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think
You stand upon the ravage and behold
A city on the inconstant billows dancing;
For so appears this fleet majestical,
Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow:
Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,
And leave your England, as dead midnight still,
Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women,
Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance;
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich’d
With one appearing hair, that will not follow
These cull’d and choice-drawn cavaliers to France?
Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back;
Tells Harry that the king doth offer him
Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry,
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms.
The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner
With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,
Alarum, and chambers go off

And down goes all before them. Still be kind,
And eke out our performance with your mind.
Exit

SCENE II. The same.
Enter NYM, BARDOLPH, PISTOL, and Boy
BARDOLPH
On, on, on, on, on! to the breach, to the breach!
NYM
Pray thee, corporal, stay: the knocks are too hot;
and, for mine own part, I have not a case of lives:
the humour of it is too hot, that is the very
plain-song of it.
PISTOL
The plain-song is most just: for humours do abound:
Knocks go and come; God’s vassals drop and die;
And sword and shield,
In bloody field,
Doth win immortal fame.
Boy
Would I were in an alehouse in London! I would give
all my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
PISTOL
And I:
If wishes would prevail with me,
My purpose should not fail with me,
But thither would I hie.
Boy
As duly, but not as truly,
As bird doth sing on bough.
Enter FLUELLEN

FLUELLEN
Up to the breach, you dogs! avaunt, you cullions!
Driving them forward

PISTOL
Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould.
Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage,
Abate thy rage, great duke!
Good bawcock, bate thy rage; use lenity, sweet chuck!
NYM
These be good humours! your honour wins bad humours.
Exeunt all but Boy

Boy
As young as I am, I have observed these three
swashers. I am boy to them all three: but all they
three, though they would serve me, could not be man
to me; for indeed three such antics do not amount to
a man. For Bardolph, he is white-livered and
red-faced; by the means whereof a’ faces it out, but
fights not. For Pistol, he hath a killing tongue
and a quiet sword; by the means whereof a’ breaks
words, and keeps whole weapons. For Nym, he hath
heard that men of few words are the best men; and
therefore he scorns to say his prayers, lest a’
should be thought a coward: but his few bad words
are matched with as few good deeds; for a’ never
broke any man’s head but his own, and that was
against a post when he was drunk. They will steal
any thing, and call it purchase. Bardolph stole a
lute-case, bore it twelve leagues, and sold it for
three half pence. Nym and Bardolph are sworn
brothers in filching, and in Calais they stole a
fire-shovel: I knew by that piece of service the
men would carry coals. They would have me as
familiar with men’s pockets as their gloves or their
handkerchers: which makes much against my manhood,
if I should take from another’s pocket to put into
mine; for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I
must leave them, and seek some better service:
their villany goes against my weak stomach, and
therefore I must cast it up.
Exit

Re-enter FLUELLEN, GOWER following

GOWER
Captain Fluellen, you must come presently to the
mines; the Duke of Gloucester would speak with you.
FLUELLEN
To the mines! tell you the duke, it is not so good
to come to the mines; for, look you, the mines is
not according to the disciplines of the war: the
concavities of it is not sufficient; for, look you,
the athversary, you may discuss unto the duke, look
you, is digt himself four yard under the
countermines: by Cheshu, I think a’ will plough up
all, if there is not better directions.
GOWER
The Duke of Gloucester, to whom the order of the
siege is given, is altogether directed by an
Irishman, a very valiant gentleman, i’ faith.
FLUELLEN
It is Captain Macmorris, is it not?
GOWER
I think it be.
FLUELLEN
By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the world: I will
verify as much in his beard: be has no more
directions in the true disciplines of the wars, look
you, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.
Enter MACMORRIS and Captain JAMY

GOWER
Here a’ comes; and the Scots captain, Captain Jamy, with him.
FLUELLEN
Captain Jamy is a marvellous falourous gentleman,
that is certain; and of great expedition and
knowledge in th’ aunchient wars, upon my particular
knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu, he will
maintain his argument as well as any military man in
the world, in the disciplines of the pristine wars
of the Romans.
JAMY
I say gud-day, Captain Fluellen.
FLUELLEN
God-den to your worship, good Captain James.
GOWER
How now, Captain Macmorris! have you quit the
mines? have the pioneers given o’er?
MACMORRIS
By Chrish, la! tish ill done: the work ish give
over, the trompet sound the retreat. By my hand, I
swear, and my father’s soul, the work ish ill done;
it ish give over: I would have blowed up the town, so
Chrish save me, la! in an hour: O, tish ill done,
tish ill done; by my hand, tish ill done!
FLUELLEN
Captain Macmorris, I beseech you now, will you
voutsafe me, look you, a few disputations with you,
as partly touching or concerning the disciplines of
the war, the Roman wars, in the way of argument,
look you, and friendly communication; partly to
satisfy my opinion, and partly for the satisfaction,
look you, of my mind, as touching the direction of
the military discipline; that is the point.
JAMY
It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud captains bath:
and I sall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick
occasion; that sall I, marry.
MACMORRIS
It is no time to discourse, so Chrish save me: the
day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the
king, and the dukes: it is no time to discourse. The
town is beseeched, and the trumpet call us to the
breach; and we talk, and, be Chrish, do nothing:
’tis shame for us all: so God sa’ me, ’tis shame to
stand still; it is shame, by my hand: and there is
throats to be cut, and works to be done; and there
ish nothing done, so Chrish sa’ me, la!
JAMY
By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine take themselves
to slomber, ay’ll de gud service, or ay’ll lig i’
the grund for it; ay, or go to death; and ay’ll pay
‘t as valourously as I may, that sall I suerly do,
that is the breff and the long. Marry, I wad full
fain hear some question ‘tween you tway.
FLUELLEN
Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, under your
correction, there is not many of your nation–
MACMORRIS
Of my nation! What ish my nation? Ish a villain,
and a bastard, and a knave, and a rascal. What ish
my nation? Who talks of my nation?
FLUELLEN
Look you, if you take the matter otherwise than is
meant, Captain Macmorris, peradventure I shall think
you do not use me with that affability as in
discretion you ought to use me, look you: being as
good a man as yourself, both in the disciplines of
war, and in the derivation of my birth, and in
other particularities.
MACMORRIS
I do not know you so good a man as myself: so
Chrish save me, I will cut off your head.
GOWER
Gentlemen both, you will mistake each other.
JAMY
A! that’s a foul fault.
A parley sounded

GOWER
The town sounds a parley.
FLUELLEN
Captain Macmorris, when there is more better
opportunity to be required, look you, I will be so
bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of war;
and there is an end.
Exeunt

Definition
Arden 3 | 1995

breach

wall

becomes

modest

stillness

humility

blast of war

imitate

stiffen

sinews

conjure

blood

disguise

fair

nature

hard-favoured

rage

lend

aspect

pry

portage

brass cannon

brow

o’erwhelm

fearfully

galled

o’erhang

jutty

confounded

base

swilled

wild

wasteful

hard

bend up

spirit

fet

war-proof,

Alexanders

morn

even

argument

attest

beget

copy

grosser

blood

yeomen

limbs

mettle

pasture

breeding

doubt

mean

base

noble

lustre

greyhounds

slips

straining

start

game’s

afoot

spirit

charge

Harry

Saint George

Translation
Ian Leung

HENRY V
One more time lets attack the break in the wall, cherished companions, one more time
Or let’s fill up the gap with the corpses of our countrymen.
In peacetime, there isn’t anything that makes someone more beautiful
Than unassuming

Translation
No Fear Shakespeare

HENRY V
Attack the breach in the city wall once more, dear friends, attack it once more—or else let’s close it up with English corpses. In peacetime, nothing looks better in a man than restraint and humility. But when the battle trumpet blows in our ears, then it’s time to act like the tiger. With muscles taut and blood stirred up, hide your civilized nature under the guise of ugly rage. Lend your eyes a terrifying gleam and let them jut out from the portholes of the head like brass cannon. Make your brow jut out over your eyes like a frightening cliff over the wild and desolate ocean. Now grit your teeth and let your nostrils flare. Take a deep breath and draw on every impulse to its fullest strength. On, on, you noblest Englishmen, descended as you are from battle-tested fathers, fathers who, like so many Alexander the Greats, have fought in these regions from morning until night, sheathing their swords only when there was no one left to fight. Don’t dishonor your mothers! Prove that the men you call your fathers did truly conceive you. Serve as an example to men of common birth and teach them how to fight. And you, good farmers, whose limbs were made in England, show us here the vigor of your upbringing. Prove you are worthy of your birth, which I do not doubt for a moment. For there isn’t one of you so low-born that your eyes don’t shine with noble luster. I see you’re standing like greyhounds

Henry | Act 4, Scene 3 | 18 – 67

What’s he that wishes so?

Source
Arden | Harold F. Brooks. London: Methuen & Co. Ltd., 1979

HENRY V
What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enough                                                   20
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;                                                 25
It earns me not if men my garments wear:
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.                                30
God’s peace, I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,                                      35
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.                                                 40
He that outlives this day and comes safe home
Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day and live old age
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,                                         45
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot
But he’ll remember, with advantages,                                                     50
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.                                       55
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.                                        60
For he today 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,                        65
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Thought Counts
Arden | 1979

Thoughts |TBD

Short: 6
Medium: 12
Long: 2
Total: 20

End-stopped: 17
Mid-line: 3

Periods: 17
Exclamations: 1
Questions: 2
Unfinished: 0

Objective

 

Helena needs the audience to

Thoughts
Arden | 1979

HENRY V
1. What’s he that wishes so?
2. My cousin Westmorland? 3. No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enough                                                   20
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
4. God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
5. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;                                                 25
It earns me not if men my garments wear:
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
6. But if it be a sin to covet honour
I am the most offending soul alive.
7. No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.                                30
8. God’s peace, I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. 9. O do not wish one more!
10. Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,                                      35
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse.
11. We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
12. This day is called the feast of Crispian.                                                 40
13. He that outlives this day and comes safe home
Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
14. He that shall see this day and live old age
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,                                         45
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’
15. Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
16. Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot
But he’ll remember, with advantages,                                                     50
What feats he did that day. 17. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.                                       55
18. 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.                                        60
19. For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition.
20. And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,                        65
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Line Analysis
Arden | 1979

HENRY V
What’s he that wishes so?                                                                   6 (completing)
My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin:                               11 W
If we are marked to die, we are enough                                           10 or 10 R        20
To do our country loss, and if to live,                                                10 R
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.                                 11 W
God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more.                             10 or 10 R
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,                                                 10 or 10 R
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;                                          10 or 10 R          25
It earns me not if men my garments wear:                                        10 R
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.                                10 or 10 R
But if it be a sin to covet honour                                                           11 W
I am the most offending soul alive.                                                      10 or 10 R
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.                            11 W                  30
God’s peace, I would not lose so great an honour                          11 W
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,                       10 or 10 R
For the best hope I have. O do not wish one more!                        12
Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,                     11
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,                                     10 R                 35
Let him depart; his passport shall be made                                         10 R
And crowns for convoy put into his purse.                                           10 R
We would not die in that man’s company                                            10 or 10 R
That fears his fellowship to die with us.                                                 10 or 10 R
This day is called the feast of Crispian.                                                 10 R                40
He that outlives this day and comes safe home                                 10
Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named                                         10 R
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.                                                10 R
He that shall see this day and live old age                                           10
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,                                        11 W               45
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’                                                    10 or 10 R
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,                               10
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’                                 10 or 10 R
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot                                                     10 R
But he’ll remember, with advantages,                                                     10 R              50
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,                             10
Familiar in his mouth as household words,                                            10 R
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,                                                        10
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,                                 10 W or 11 W or 12 W
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememberèd.                                      11 W or 12      55
This story shall the good man teach his son,                                        10 or 10 R
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by                                                      10 R
From this day to the ending of the world                                                 10 or 10 R
But we in it shall be rememberèd,                                                              10 or 10 R
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.                                          11 W                 60
For he today that sheds his blood with me                                              10 R
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,                                                   10 R
This day shall gentle his conditiön.                                                            10 R
And gentlemen in England now abed                                                        10 R
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,                           10 R         65
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks                             10 R
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.                                         10 or 10 R

Pacing and Tempo
Arden | 1979

HENRY V
What’s he that wishes so?    PAUSE?
My cousin Westmorland? ^ No, ^ my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, ^ we are enough →                                                  20
To do our country loss, ^ and if to live,
The fewer men, ^ the greater share ^ of honour.  PAUSE?
God’s will, ^ I pray thee ^ wish not one man morePAUSE?
By Jove, ^ I am not ^ covetous for gold,
Nor care I ^ who doth feed upon my cost;                                                 25
It earns me not ^ if men my garments wear:
Such outward things ^ dwell not in my desires.  PAUSE?
But if it be a sin ^ to covet honour
I am the most offending soul alive.  PAUSE?
No, ^ faith, ^ my coz, ^ wish not a man ^ from England.  PAUSE?               30
God’s peace, ^ I would not lose so great an honour →
As one man more, ^ methinks, ^ would share from me,
For the best hope I have. ^ O ^ do not wish one more!    PAUSE?
Rather ^ proclaim it, ^ Westmorland, ^ through my host,
That he ^ which hath no stomach to this fight,                                      35
Let him depart; ^ his passport ^ shall be made
And crowns for convoy ^ put into his purse.    PAUSE?
We would not die ^ in that man’s company →*
That fears his fellowship ^ to die with us.  PAUSE?
This day ^ is called ^ the feast ^ of Crispian.  PAUSE?                             40
He ^ that outlives this day ^ and comes safe home
Will stand a-tiptoe ^ when this day is named →*
And rouse him ^ at the name of Crispian.  PAUSE?
He that shall see this day ^ and live old age
Will yearly on the vigil ^ feast his neighbours,                                         45
And say ^ ‘Tomorrow ^ is Saint Crispian.’  PAUSE?
Then will he strip his sleeve ^ and show his scars,
And say ^ ‘These wounds ^ I had on Crispin’s day.’  PAUSE?
Old men forget; ^ yet all ^ shall be forgot →*
But he’ll remember, ^ with advantages,                                                     50
What feats he did that day. ^ Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth ^ as household words,
Harry ^ the King, ^ Bedford ^ and Exeter,
Warwick ^ and Talbot, ^ Salisbury ^ and Gloucester,
Be ^ in their flowing cups ^ freshly remembered.    PAUSE?                 55
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.    PAUSE?                  60
For he today ^ that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; ^ be he ne’er so vile,
This day ^ shall gentle ^ his condition.  PAUSE?
And gentlemen in England ^ now abed →*
Shall think themselves accursed ^ they were not here,                        65
And hold their manhoods cheap ^ whiles any speaks →
That fought with us ^ upon ^ Saint Crispin’s day.    PAUSE?

Repeated Sounds
Arden | 1979

HENRY V
What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enough                                                   20
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;                                                 25
It earns me not if men my garments wear:
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.                                30
God’s peace, I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,                                      35
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.                                                 40
He that outlives this day and comes safe home
Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day and live old age
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,                                         45
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot
But he’ll remember, with advantages,                                                     50
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.                                       55
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.                                        60
For he today 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,                        65
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Rhetoric
Arden | 1979

imagery

Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse.

He that outlives this day and comes safe home
Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall see this day and live old age
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day.

Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
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.

And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

metaphor

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.

simile

Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,

plain comparison

And gentlemen in England now abed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

juxtaposition

O do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse.

For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition.

antithesis

No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.

contradiction/paradox

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day.

personification

  • no examples

this and that

his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse.

He that outlives this day and comes safe home

Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

He that shall see this day and live old age

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,

Bedford and Exeter,

Warwick and Talbot,

Salisbury and Gloucester,

this, that, and another thing

By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It earns me not if men my garments wear:

enumerations

Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
1) Harry the King, 2) Bedford 3) and Exeter,
4) Warwick 5) and Talbot, 6) Salisbury 7) and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.

repetitions of words or phrases

wish/wishes

cousin/coz

die

live/lives

Westmoreland

honour

few/fewer

one man more/not a man/one more

England

day

remembered

feast

Saint

Crispian

Crispin

we

brother/brothers

parenthesis

yet all shall be forgot
But he’ll remember, (with advantages),
What feats he did that day.

Then shall our names,
(Familiar in his mouth as household words),
(Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester),
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.

irony

No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

puns and other wordplay

onomatopoeia

What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It earns me not if men my garments wear:
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour
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 honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,
That he which 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 a-tiptoe when this day is named
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day and live old age
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot
But he’ll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
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 today 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 manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Before and After
Arden | 1979

HENRY V
What’s he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmorland? No, my fair cousin:
If we are marked to die, we are enough                                                   20
To do our country loss, and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God’s will, I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;                                                 25
It earns me not if men my garments wear:
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.                                30
God’s peace, I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more, methinks, would share from me,
For the best hope I have. O do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmorland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,                                      35
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.                                                 40
He that outlives this day and comes safe home
Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall see this day and live old age
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,                                         45
And say ‘Tomorrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot
But he’ll remember, with advantages,                                                     50
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered.                                       55
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.                                        60
For he today 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,                        65
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

Definitions
Arden | 1979

 

cousin

fair

marked

enow

God’s will

Jove

feed

cost

earns

faith

coz

God’s peace

share

hope

host

stomach

passport

crowns

convoy

purse

fears

fellowship

Crispian

stand a-tiptoe

rouse

vigil

feast

strip

Crispin

advantages

Harry

Bedford

Exeter

Warwick

Talbot

Salisbury

Gloucester

flowing

ne’er

vile

gentle

condition

manhoods

Translation
Ian Leung

HENRY V
Who is it that desires such a thing?
My relative/friend Ralph Neville the first Earl of Westmoreland?

Translation
No Fear Shakespeare

HENRY V
Who wishes that? My cousin Westmoreland? No, my dear cousin. If we are slated to die, the fewer, the better for our country, and if we’re slated to live, the fewer men, the greater the share of honor for each of us. In God’s name, I beg you not to wish for one more man. By God, I am not selfish when it comes to money: I don’t care who eats at my expense. It doesn’t bother me when people borrow my clothing—I don’t care about these concrete things. But if it is a sin to be selfish about honor, I am the most guilty soul alive. No, my cousin, don’t wish that even one man who is now in England were here instead. By God, I wouldn’t lose as much honor as a single man more would cost me, I think—not even if it meant giving up my best hope for victory. Oh, do not wish one more! Instead, make this known throughout the army: whoever has no spirit for this fight, let him depart. He will be given safe conduct and money for his passage home. We would not want to die in the company of a man who fears to die with us. This day is called the Feast of Saint Crispian: he who lives to see this day out and comes home safe will stand tall when this day is named and raise himself up at the mention of Crispian. He who survives this day and lives to see old age shall yearly entertain his neighbors on the eve, saying, “Tomorrow is Saint Crispin’s Day .” He’ll roll up his sleeve and show his scars, saying, “I got these wounds on St. Crispin’s Day.” Old men forget. But these men will remember every detail of what they did today long after they’ve forgotten everything else. And as the wine flows, our names, familiar as household words, will be invoked again: Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester. Good men will tell their sons this story and the Feast of St. Crispin will never go by, from this day to the end of time, without our being remembered: we few, we happy few, we band of brothers—for whoever sheds his blood with me today shall be my brother. However humble his birth, this day shall grant him nobility. And men back in English now safe in their beds will curse themselves for not having been here, and think less of their own manhood when they listen to the stories of those who fought with us here on St. Crispin’s Day.

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