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Great lords, wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss, But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. What though the mast be now blown overboard, The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost, And half our sailors swallow’d in the flood? Yet lives our pilot still. Is’t meet that he Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad With tearful eyes add water to the sea And give more strength to that which hath too much, Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, Which industry and courage might have saved? Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this! Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? And Montague our topmost; what of him? Our slaughter’d friends the tackles; what of these? Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? And Somerset another goodly mast? The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I For once allow’d the skilful pilot’s charge? We will not from the helm to sit and weep, But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck. As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. And what is Edward but ruthless sea? What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? All these the enemies to our poor bark. Say you can swim; alas, ’tis but a while! Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink: Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off, Or else you famish; that’s a threefold death. This speak I, lords, to let you understand, If case some one of you would fly from us, That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothers More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks. Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided ’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
Great lords, wise men never sit around crying about their losses, But cheerfully look for ways to fix what’s gone wrong. Even though the mast has been blown overboard, The rope’s been snapped, the anchor’s lost, And half of our sailors drowned in the sea? Our pilot is still alive. Should he Leave the wheel and, like a scared boy, Cry and add more water to the sea, Giving more power to the thing that’s already too strong, While the ship crashes against the rocks, Which effort and bravery could have saved? What a disgrace! What a mistake this would be! Let’s say Warwick was our anchor; so what? And Montague was our highest mast; what about him? Our dead friends were the ropes and rigging; what of that? Isn’t Oxford here another anchor? And Somerset another good mast? The friends of France our ropes and rigging? And though we’re unskilled, why not Ned and I For once be trusted with the skilled pilot’s job? We won’t abandon the wheel to sit and cry, But we’ll stay on course, even if the harsh wind says no, Away from the cliffs and rocks that threaten us with destruction. It’s just as useless to shout at the waves as to speak kindly to them. And what is Edward but a merciless sea? What is Clarence but a quicksand of lies? And Richard but a jagged, doomed rock? They’re all enemies to our poor ship. You say you can swim; but that’s only for a while! Walk on the sand; soon you’ll sink: Stand on the rock; the tide will wash you away, Or you’ll starve; that’s a threefold death. I say this, lords, to make you understand, If any of you want to run away from us, That there’s no mercy to be had with the brothers Any more than with the cruel waves, sands, and rocks. So, be brave! What can’t be avoided It would be foolish to cry about or fear.
Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit Should, if a coward heard her speak these words, Infuse his breast with magnanimity And make him, naked, foil a man at arms. I speak not this as doubting any here For did I but suspect a fearful man He should have leave to go away betimes, Lest in our need he might infect another And make him of like spirit to himself. If any such be here--as God forbid!-- Let him depart before we need his help.
I think a woman with this kind of courage Should, if a coward heard her speak these words, Fill his heart with bravery And make him, even unarmed, fight a man. I don’t say this because I doubt anyone here, For if I suspected any man was scared, He’d be free to leave early, So he wouldn’t infect anyone else And make them cowardly like him. If any such man is here—God forbid!— Let him leave before we need his help.
Women and children of so high a courage, And warriors faint! why, ’twere perpetual shame. O brave young prince! thy famous grandfather Doth live again in thee: long mayst thou live To bear his image and renew his glories!
Women and children with such courage, And warriors faint-hearted! It would be a shame forever. Oh brave young prince! Your famous grandfather Lives on in you: may you live long To carry on his legacy and renew his glory!
And he that will not fight for such a hope. Go home to bed, and like the owl by day, If he arise, be mock’d and wonder’d at.
And anyone who won’t fight for such a hope, Should go home to bed, and like the owl in the daytime, If he gets up at all, be mocked and stared at.
Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks.
Thank you, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thank you.
And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.
And thank you from him who has nothing else to give.
Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand. Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.
Get ready, lords, because Edward is near. He’s ready to fight, so be firm.
I thought no less: it is his policy To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.
I thought so: it’s his plan To rush at us like this, to catch us off guard.
But he’s deceived; we are in readiness.
But he’s wrong; we’re ready.
This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.
That lifts my spirits, to see your readiness.
Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.
Let’s set up our battle here; we won’t move from this spot.
Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood, Which, by the heavens’ assistance and your strength, Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. I need not add more fuel to your fire, For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords!
Brave followers, over there stands the dangerous forest, Which, with the help of God and your strength, Must be uprooted before nightfall. I don’t need to add more to your determination, Because I know you’re ready to fight them off. Give the signal to attack, and let’s go, lords!
Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign, Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp’d, His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, His statutes cancell’d and his treasure spent; And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. You fight in justice: then, in God’s name, lords, Be valiant and give signal to the fight.
Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I want to say My tears prevent me from saying; for every word I speak, You see, I’m drinking the tears from my eyes. So, no more than this: Henry, your king, Is a prisoner to the enemy; his rule taken from him, His land a bloodbath, his people killed, His laws destroyed, and his wealth gone; And over there is the villain who’s caused all this harm. You’re fighting for what’s right: so, in God’s name, lords, Be brave and give the signal to fight.