Original
Modern English
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,
Now, with imagined wings, our fast-moving scene flies As quickly as thought itself. Imagine that you’ve seen The well-prepared king at Hampton pier Boarding his royal ship; and his proud fleet With colorful streamers, as the young sun fans them: Let your imagination play, and in it see Ship boys climbing the ropes of the ship; Hear the sharp whistle that gives orders To the confused sounds; see the woven sails, Carried by the invisible and creeping wind, Moving the large ships through the churned-up sea, Facing the tall waves: Oh, just think You’re standing on the shore and watching A city dancing on the unsteady waves; For that’s what this majestic fleet looks like, Steadily heading toward Harfleur. Follow, follow: Focus your minds on the back end of this navy, And leave behind your peaceful England, Guarded by grandfathers, babies, and old women, Either too old or not yet strong enough; For who is there, whose chin has but a single hair, Who won’t follow These carefully selected knights to France? Work, work your thoughts, and picture a siege; See the cannons on their carts, With their deadly mouths aimed at Harfleur. Imagine the French ambassador returns; Telling Harry that the king offers him His daughter Katharine, along with some small and worthless dukedoms. The offer is rejected: and the quick gunner Now touches the devilish cannon with his match,
And down goes all before them. Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind.
And everything falls before them. Please be kind, And fill out our performance with your imagination.