Shakespere's Historical Play of Henry the Fifth

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Henry Blacklock, 1872 - 80 pages
 

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Page 17 - A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any christom child ; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, e'en at the turning o' the tide : for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers...
Page 29 - 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.
Page 29 - 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...
Page 40 - Now entertain conjecture of a time, When creeping murmur, and the poring dark, Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
Page 17 - a should not think of God ; I hoped, there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet : So, 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet : I put my hand into the bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.
Page 29 - 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...
Page 49 - Tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial, The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced title running 'fore the king...
Page 30 - 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!
Page 49 - Not to-day, O Lord, O, not to-day, think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown ! I Richard's body have interred new ; And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears, Than from it issued forced drops of blood. Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, Who twice...
Page 48 - Must kings neglect that private men enjoy! And what have kings that privates have not too, Save ceremony— save general ceremony?

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