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! 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. Your brother kings and monarchs of the earth Do all expect that you should rouse yourself, As did the former lions of your blood. 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. 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. 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. They of those marches, gracious sovereign, Shall be a wall sufficient to defend Our inland from the pilfering borderers. 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. 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