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By the compulsion of their ordnance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But, on the sight of us, your lawful king,-
Who painfully, with much expedient march,
Have brought a countercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd

Behold, the French, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle :
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke,
To make a faithless error in your ears:
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in, your king; whose labour'd spirits,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,
Crave harbourage within your city walls.

K. PHILIP. When I have said, make answer to us both.

Lo, in this right hand, whose protection
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right
Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet,
Son to the elder brother of this man,
And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys:
For this down-trodden equity, we tread

In warlike march these greens before your town;
Being no further enemy to you,

Than the constraint of hospitable zeal,
In the relief of this oppressed child,
Religiously provokes. Be pleased then
To pay that duty, which you truly owe,

To him that owes it; namely, this young prince:
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in aspéct, have all offence seal'd up;
Our cannon's malice vainly shall be spent

Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And, with a blessed and unvex'd retire,

With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd, We will bear home that lusty blood again, Which here we came to spout against your town, And leave your children, wives, and you, in


But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,
'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war;
Though all these English, and their discipline,
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession?

1ST CITIZEN. Till you compound whose right is worthiest,

We, for the worthiest, hold our right from both.

K. JOHN. Then God forgive the sin of all those souls,

That to their everlasting residence,

Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!

K. PHI. Amen, Amen!-Mount chevaliers! to arms!

KING JOHN, A. 2, s. 1.


ANOTHER of these students at that time
Was there with him: if I have heard a truth,
Biron they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:

His eye begets occasion for his wit:
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest ;
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravish'd;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.



1ST MURDERER. How now? what meanʼst thou, that thou help'st me not?

By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you

have been.

2ND MURDERER. I would he knew, that I had sav'd his brother!

Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
For I repent me that the duke is slain.
So do not I; go, coward, as thou




Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,
Till that the duke give order for his burial :
And when I have my meed, I will away;
For this will out, and then I must not stay.

K. RICHARD III., A. 1, s. 4.


To be once in doubt,

Is-once to be resolv'd: Exchange me for a


When I shall turn the business of my soul
To such exsufflicate, and blown surmises,

Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me


To say-my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,

Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well:
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt;
For she had eyes, and chose me: No, Iago;
I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,-
Away at once with love, or jealousy.

OTHELLO, A. 3, s. 3.



Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd!



What need I not on me?

P. HENRY. Why, thou owest God a death. FALSTAFF. 'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before his day. be so forward with him that calls Well, 'tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that



Air. A trim reckoning!-Who hath

it? He that died o' Wednesday.

Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it in

sensible then? Yea, to the dead. live with the living? No. Why?

But will it not Detraction will not suffer it :-therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.

K. HENRY IV., PART 1., A. 5, s. 1.



ORLANDO. Who's there?

ADAM. What! my young master?-O, my gentle master,

O, my sweet master, O you memory

Of old sir Rowland! why, what make you here? Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?

And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant ?

Why would you be SO fond to overcome

The bony prizer of the humorous duke?
Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, master, to some kind of men
Their graces serve them but as enemies?
No more do yours; your virtues, gentle master,
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you.

O, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!

ORL. Why, what's the matter?


O unhappy youth, Come not within these doors; within this roof of all your graces lives:

The enemy

Your brother-(no, no brother; yet the son―

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