Act 3 — ACT III.

Chor. Thus with imagined wing our swift scene flies In motion of no less celerity[4837] Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen[4837] The well-appointed king at Hampton pier[4838] Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet5 With silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning:[4839] 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,10 Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,[4840] Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, Breasting the lofty surge: O, do but think You stand upon the rivage and behold A city on the inconstant billows dancing;15 For so appears this fleet majestical, Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, follow:[4841] Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy,[4842] And leave your England, as dead midnight still, Guarded with grandsires, babies and old women,20 Either past or not arrived to pith and puissance;[4843] 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;25 Behold the ordnance on their carriages,[4844] With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back;[4845] Tells Harry that the king doth offer him Katharine his daughter, and with her, to dowry,30 Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. The offer likes not: and the nimble gunner With linstock now the devilish cannon touches,

And down goes all before them. Still be kind,[4847] And eke out our performance with your mind. [Exit.[4848]35