Standing above on a parapet, the King is exhorting them with vehement ardor.
KING HENRY Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with the 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 up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favor’d rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect.... 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!... Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, 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.... 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!”
THE SOLDIERS [With a great shout.] Ho, God for Harry, England, and Saint George!
[As they leap forward, to the blare of trumpets, and begin to scale the ladders,
THE CLOUDY CURTAINS CLOSE
[Instantly Caliban, seizing from the staff the hood of Prospero, shakes it aloft and shouts:]
PRELIMINARY SKETCH FOR TENTH INNER SCENE: JONES