Commentaries on the Historical Plays of Shakspeare, Band 1

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Seite 85 - So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, And pay the debt I never promised, By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ; And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
Seite 96 - I cannot blame him : at my nativity The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, Of burning cressets ; and at my birth The frame and huge foundation of the earth Shaked like a coward.
Seite 110 - I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Seite 88 - 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.
Seite 90 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks...
Seite 196 - 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 nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
Seite 195 - O that we now had here But one ten thousand of those men in England That do no work to-day ! King Henry. What 's he that wishes so ? My cousin Westmoreland ? No, my fair cousin : If we are mark'd to die, we are enow *> To do our country loss ; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
Seite 299 - Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment ? that parchment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man...
Seite 142 - He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity...
Seite 126 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — Sleep, gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...

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