King Henry the Fifth and his army are surround by the enemy
His men are weary and dispirited
It has been an unpopular war and the men wanna quit fighting
and return to their homes
But the French are on all sides,
out number in the English by many
As the men reluctantly prepre to return to battle,
King Henry is stride his horse, sword in hand,
tries to rally his men and ignite their waning courage
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more！
Or close the wall up with our English dead
In peace,
there is nothing so becomes a man as modest, stillness, and humility
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
then imitate the action of the tiger
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood
Disguise fair nature with hand-favour'd rage
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect
Let pry through the portage of the head like the brass cannon
let the brow o'erwhelm it as fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit to his full height
On, on, you noblest English
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers;
now attest that those whom you call'd fathers did beget you
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war.
And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England,
show us here the mettle of your pasture;
let us swear that you are worth your breeding;
which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start.
The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit,
and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry,
England,
 and Saint George!'