Henry V

The English army is advancing on us at full strength. It is more important that we respond majestically than that we respond carefully. Therefore the dukes of Berri, Bretagne, Brabant, and Orléans shall advance, and you, Prince Dauphin, will swiftly entrench and fortify our fortress towns with men of courage and the means to defend themselves. The king of England’s approach is as forceful as a whirlpool. It is right for us to prepare like people who are afraid, as we’ve been taught by the recent lessons given us by the deadly and underestimated English on our own soil.

My most feared father, it is certainly appropriate for us to arm ourselves against the enemy, because even in peace time, when no war or conflict is at hand, a kingdom should not lose its edge, but always be ready—with defenses, men, and training—as though it expected a war. Therefore, I agree that we should all go and inspect those French territories that are weak. Let’s do it with no show of anxiety—no, with no more fear than if we’d heard that the English were busying themselves with folk dancing. Because, my good king, England is so poorly led, her scepter so foolishly borne by a vain, silly, shallow, impulsive youth, that she’s hardly a threat.

Oh, please, Prince Dauphin! You are completely wrong about this king. Talk to the ambassadors who’ve just come back: ask them how majestically he responded to their message, how well supplied he was with good advisors, how restrained in expressing his displeasure, and, moreover, how terrifyingly firm he was in his resolve. You’ll discover that his youthful follies were like the persona that Lucius Junius Brutus adopted to deceive Tarquin—cloaking wisdom in folly the way gardeners cover the most delicate roots with manure when they first sprout up.

Well, you’re wrong, my Lord High Constable. But even if I thought you were right, it doesn’t matter. When it comes to defense, it’s best to assume that the enemy is more powerful than he seems. That way, we fill the gaps in our defenses. Otherwise, if we do it on the cheap, we’ll be like the miser who spoils his new coat by not buying quite enough cloth to make it.

I think King Harry is strong, so the rest of you princes make sure to arm yourselves to meet him with strength. His ancestors got their first taste of blood in battle with us, and he is born of that warlike strain that haunted us on our home ground. Reflect on the battle of Crécy, where, to our everlasting shame, all our princes were taken prisoner by the Prince of Wales, he whom they called Edward the Black Prince. Remember how his mountain-bred father, standing high on a mountain, crowned by the golden sun, observed his heroic son and smiled to see him mangle the work of nature, French youth whose fathers and God had nurtured for twenty years, since they were babies. This king is a branch of that same victorious stock. So let us be wary both of his inborn might and of his destiny.

Ambassadors of Harry, king of England, request a hearing with your Majesty.

We’ll see them immediately. Bring them right in.

Notice, my friends, how closely this hunter follows his prey.

Turn and face them and you’ll stop the pursuit. The cowardly pack barks loudest when the quarry is way out front. My good King, surprise the English and let them know what kind of kingdom you rule over. Self-love, my liege, is not so great a sin as self-neglect.

From our brother monarch, the king of England?

Yes, from him. Thus he greets your Majesty. He commands you, in the name of God: give up. Relinquish the stolen titles that, by the gift of heaven and the laws of nature and of nations, belong to him and his heirs. That is, give up the crown and all the extensive titles that go with it, according to custom and long use. So that you’ll know this is no dubious or farfetched claim, he sends you his family tree, every line of which supports the claim. Look over this document, and when you see that he is directly descended from his most famous of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he demands that you resign your crown and kingdom, which you wrongfully hold at the expense of himself, the true and natural owner.

And what will happen if I don’t?

Bloodshed will force you to. No matter how deeply you hid the crown, even if you hid it in your own hearts, he’d dig it up. That’s why he’s coming after you like a fierce storm, with thunder and earthquakes like Jove could stir up. So, if asking you for the crown doesn’t work, he will force you to give it to him. In the name of God, then, he asks that you deliver up the crown. He says to take pity on the poor souls whom this ravenous war will swallow up. The widows’ tears, the orphans’ cries, the dead men’s blood, the girls mourning for their husbands, the fathers and the men they might have married will all be your fault. This is his claim, his threat, and my message. If the Dauphin is here, I have a message for him, too.

I’ll think it over. Tomorrow, I’ll let you know what I’ve decided and what answer you should deliver to the king of England.

Regarding the Dauphin, you can speak to me. What’s the message from the English king?

Scorn and defiance, indifference, contempt, and any insult that wouldn’t disgrace the mighty sender—that’s the value he puts on you. And my king goes on: if your royal father does not sweeten the bitter insult you sent my king and grant all our demands, Henry’s artillery will give you so resounding an answer that the very caves and vaulted cathedrals of France shall echo your mocking of him back in your face.

Say this: if my father sends a friendly answer, it is against my will. I want nothing but conflict with England. To that end, I presented him with the tennis balls, the perfect expression of his inexperience and frivolity.

He’ll make your palace tremble for this insult, even if it were the mightiest in all of Europe. And, make no mistake, you’ll find, as we his subjects have, an amazing difference between the king as a young man and the way he is now. Now he uses his time wisely, as you will see by your own casualties, if he remains in France.

We’ll give you an answer tomorrow.

Don’t take too long, unless you want our king to come after me to ask what’s holding things up, because he’s already landed here.

You’ll have your answer soon. A night isn’t much time for addressing matters of this importance.