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Let me no more from this obedience rise, Which my most true and inward duteous spirit Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending. Heav'n witness with me, when I here came in, And found no course of breath within your Majesty, How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, O let me in my present.wildness die, And never live to slew th' incredulous world The noble change that I have purposed. Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, (And dead alınost, my Liege, to think you were) I spake unto the crown, as having sense, And thus upbraided it. The care on thee depending Hath fed upon the body of my father, Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold; .. Other, less fine in carat, is more precious, Preserving life in med'cine potable : But thou, most fine, most honour'd, most renown'd, Hast eat thy bearer up. Thus, Royal Liege, Accusing it, I put it on my head, To try with it (as with an enemy, That had before my face murder'd my father) The quarrel of a true inheritor. But if it did infect my blood with joy, Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride, If any rebel or vain spirit of mine Did with the least affection of a welcome Give entertainment to the might of it ; Let Heav'n for ever keep it from my head, And make me as the poorest vassal is, That doth with awe and terror kneel to it!
K. HENRY. O my son! Heav'n put it in thy mind to take it hence, That thou might'st win the more thy father's love, Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. i Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed; And hear, I think, the very latest counsel That ever I shall breathe. Heav'n knows, my son, By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways I met this crown; and I myself know well How troubiesome it sat upon my head. To thee it shall descend with better quiet,' ; Better opinion, better confirmation: For all the soil of the atchievement goes
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me
P. HENRY. My gracious Liege,
UNDAUNTED COURAGE in the Midst of DANGER.
HENRY V, TO HIS SOLDIERS.
The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous of gold; Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires : But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. No, 'faith, my Lord, wish not a man from England: God's peace ! I would not lose so great an honour, As one man more, methinks, would share from me, For the best hopes I have. Don't wish one more: 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 called the feast of Crispian : He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian : He that outlives this day, and sees old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say, To-morrow is Saint Crispian : Then will he strip his sleeve, and shew his scars, Old men forget; yet shall not all forget, But they'll remember, with advantages, The feats they did that day. Then shall our names, Familiar in their mouth as household-words, Harry the King, Bedford, and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Glo'ster, Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd. This story shall the good man teach his son ; And Crispin Crispian shall nee'r go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remember'd; 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 e'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England, now a-bed, Shall think themselves accursid they were not here; And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks, That fought with us upon St. Crispian’s day.
The World compared to a STAGE,
HONOUR ought to be conferred on MERIT only.
How much low peasantry wou'd then be glean'd
(SHAKESPEARE.) JES. I'm never merry when I hear sweet music.
LOR. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, (Which is the hot condition of their blood) If they perchance but hear a trumpet sound, Or any air of music touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand ; Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus: drew trees, stones and floods ; Since nought so stockish, hard and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath not music in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted,