Avis des internautes - Rédiger un commentaire
Aucun commentaire n'a été trouvé aux emplacements habituels.
answer appears arms battle bear better blood body brother Cade called Clifford comes crown dead death doth duke earl Edward enemy England English Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair father fear field fight follow Forces France French friends give Gloster grace hand hast hath head hear heart Heaven hence highness Holinshed honor hope I'll John keep King Henry lady leave live London look lord majesty master means never night noble once peace Pist play poor present prince queen rest Richard SCENE Shakspeare Shal sir John soldiers Somerset soul speak spirit stand stay Suff Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tell thee thine thing thou thou art thought thousand true turn unto Warwick York
Page 152 - 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...
Page 190 - 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, whiles any speaks That fought with us upon saint Crispin's day.
Page 472 - God! methinks, it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live.
Page 153 - 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!
Page 54 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased ; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasure'd. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Page 117 - 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.
Page 189 - Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse: We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is...
Page 190 - This day is call'd — the feast of Crispian ; He, that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He, that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, And say — 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.
Page 93 - Laud be to God ! — even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years, I should not die but in Jerusalem ; Which vainly I supposed the Holy Land. — But bear me to that chamber ; there I'll lie ; In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.