What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Bardolph Bast bear beseech blood Boling Bolingbroke breath brother call Coleville cousin crown Dauphin dead death doth duke duke of Norfolk earl Earl of March England English Enter Exeter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith Falstaff father fear first France French friends Gaunt give good grace great grief hand Harfleur Harry hath head hear heart heaven Henry IV Hereford honour horse hostess hour John of Gaunt keep King Henry know König Lady leave life little live look lord love Macbeth made majesty make master meisten Hgg never night noble Northumberland Owen Glendower peace Percy Pist Pistol Poins poor power pray prince Rich right SCENE Shal Shallow Sir John Sirrah soldier soul speak sweet sword take tell thee thine thing think thou art thought thousand time tongue true unto Westmoreland world York
Page 59 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — O Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down...
Page 59 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep!
Page 23 - I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit POINS. P. Hen. I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness ; Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
Page 32 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
Page 56 - 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 104 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Page 58 - If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked ! if to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is damned : if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord ; banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins : but for sweet Jack Falstaff, kind Jack Falstaff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstaff, and therefore more valiant, being, as he is, old Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company, banish not him thy Harry's company : banish...
Page 30 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their ( emperor...
Page 57 - 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.
Page 24 - 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. I'll so offend to make offence a skill, Redeeming time when men think least I will.