Mr. William Shakespeare: Henry V. Henry VI (Google eBook)

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Dryden Leach, 1767
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Page 22 - It must be by his death: and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him, But for the general. He would be crown'd: How that might change his nature, there's the question: It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking.
Page 10 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus ; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Page 52 - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
Page 34 - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear, Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.
Page 4 - Many a time and oft Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The livelong day, with patient expectation, To see great POmpey pass the streets of Rome...
Page 9 - I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life ; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
Page 49 - O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers; Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times.
Page 11 - Why should that name be sounded more than yours ? Write them together, yours is as fair a name; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, "Brutus" will start a spirit as soon as "Caesar.
Page 58 - I am no orator, as Brutus is; But as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend ; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit...
Page 31 - But, as it were, in sort or limitation, To keep with you at meals, comfort your bed, And talk to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the suburbs Of your good pleasure ? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus