Shakespere's Historical Play of Henry the Fifth: Arranged for Representation in Five Acts

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S. French, 1875 - 68 strán (strany)
 

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Strana 9 - 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.
Strana 44 - s he that wishes so ? My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin. If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
Strana 26 - 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...
Strana 26 - 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!
Strana 44 - To-morrow is Saint Crispian:' Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, And say — 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Strana 45 - 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 whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Strana 42 - Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread; Never sees horrid night, the child of hell, But like a lackey from the rise to set Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn, Doth rise and help Hyperion...
Strana 25 - 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...
Strana 26 - 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 for Harry! England and Saint George!
Strana 16 - A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child ; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide : for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers...

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