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answer arms Bard Bardolph bear better blood body bring brother Cade captain comes cousin crown dead death doth Duke Earl enemy England English Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith Falstaff father fear field fight follow Forces France French friends give Gloster grace hand Harry hath head hear heart heaven highness hold honour horse Host I'll John keep king Lady leave live look lord majesty Master means meet never night noble once peace Pist Poin poor pray prince queen reason SCENE Shal shame Sir John soldiers Somerset soul speak spirit stand stay Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tell thee thing thou art thought thousand tongue true turn unto Warwick York
Страница 214 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's 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...
Страница 130 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Страница 76 - Honour ? Air. A trim reckoning! — Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere 'scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
Страница 184 - O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene ! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars ; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire Crouch for employment.
Страница 246 - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered : We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me, Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition: And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here; And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, That fought with us upon saint Crispin's...
Страница 64 - As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Страница 215 - 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 yeomen, 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...
Страница 214 - Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it 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.
Страница 278 - Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, And with them scourge the bad revolting stars That have consented unto Henry's death!
Страница 84 - Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound; But now two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough; — this earth that bears thee dead Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.