William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

French King.—Think we King Harry strong;

And, princes, look you strongly arm to meet him.

The kindred of him hath been fleshed upon us;

And he is bred out of that bloody strain,

That haunted us in our familiar paths:

Witness our too much memorable shame,

When Cressy battle fatally was struck,

And all our princes captived, by the hand

Of that black name, Edward, black prince of Wales;

Whiles that his mountain sire,—on mountain standing,

Up in the air, crowned with a golden sun,—

Saw his heroical seed, and smiled to see him

Mangle the work of nature, and deface

The patterns that by God and by French fathers

Had twenty years been made. This is a stem

Of that victorious stock; and let us fear

The native mightiness and fate of him.