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He call'd them-untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.

With many holyday and lady terms

He question'd me: among the rest, demanded My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, To be so pester'd with a popinjay,

Out of my grief and my impatience,

Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what;

He should, or he should not;-for he made me mad,

To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,

Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the mark!)

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,

That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;
And, I beseech you, let not his report
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 1, s. 3.


ALL the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome !-you herd of-Boils and plagues

Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd Further than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and hell!

All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home,

Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, And make my wars on you: look to't: Come on; If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives,

As they us to our trenches followed.

CORIOLANUS, A. 1, s. 4.


MELUN. Lead me to the revolts of England here.

SALISBURY. When we were happy, we had other names.

PEMBROKE. It is the count Melun.



Wounded to death.

Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold;

Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
And welcome home again discarded faith.
Seek out king John, and fall before his feet;
For, if the French be lords of this loud day,
He means to recompense the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-
Even on that altar, where we swore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.

SAL. May this be possible? may this be true?

MEL. Have I not hideous death within my view,

Retaining but a quantity of life;

Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire?
What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ?
Why should I then be false; since it is true
That I must die here, and live hence by truth?
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,

He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
Behold another day break in the east:

But even this night,-whose black contagious breath

Already smokes about the burning crest
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,-
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Paying the fine of rated treachery,

Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;
The love of him, and this respect besides,
For that my grandsire was an Englishman,-
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.

KING JOHN, a. 5, s. 4.


IN which array, (brave soldier,) doth he lie,
Larding the plain and by his bloody side,
(Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,)
The noble earl of Suffolk also lies.

Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteep'd,
And takes him by the beard; kisses the gashes,
That bloodily did yawn upon his face;
And cries aloud, Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven:
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast;
As, in this glorious and well-foughten field,
We kept together in our chivalry!

Upon these words I came, and cheer'd him up:
He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,
And with a feeble gripe, says,-Dear my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign.

So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck

He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips; And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd

Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd;

But I had not so much of man in me,

But all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

K. HENRY V., A. 4, s. 6.


THE fires i'the lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor ?-Thou injurious tribune, Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths,

In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in
Thy lying tongue both numbers, I would say,
Thou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free
As I do pray the gods.

I'll know no further:

Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death,
Vagabond exile, flaying; Pent to linger
But with a grain a day, I would not buy
Their mercy at the price of one fair word;
Nor check my courage for what they can give,
To have't with saying, Good morrow.

CORIOLANUS, A. 3, s. 3.


LET not my cold words here accuse my zeal:
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain:
The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this,
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say:
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs


From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would post, until it had return'd
These terms of treason doubled down his

Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,

I do defy him, and I spit at him;

Call him-a slanderous coward, and a villain :
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds;
And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,

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