If I demand before this royal view, What rub or what impediment there is,
Why that the naked, poor, and mangléd Peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
‘Henry V’ (1599) act 5, sc. 2, l. 31
Her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock and rank fumitory Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts That should deracinate such savagery;
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.
‘Henry V’ (1599) act 5, sc. 2, l. 44
For these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies’ favours, they do always reason themselves out again.
‘Henry V’ (1599) act 5, sc. 2, l. [162]
Shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half-French, half-English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard?
‘Henry V’ (1599) act 5, sc. 2, l. [218]
It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss before they are married.
‘Henry V’ (1599) act 5, sc. 2, l. [287]
God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts in one.
‘Henry V’ (1599) act 5, sc. 2, l. [387]
Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen, Our bending author hath pursued the story, In little room confining mighty men,
Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time, but in that small most greatly lived This star of England. Fortune made his sword, By which the world’s best garden he achieved,
And of it made his son imperial lord.
Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crowned King Of France and England, did this king succeed, Whose state so many had the managing
That they lost France and made this England bleed; Which oft our stage hath shown; and for their sake In your fair minds let this acceptance take.
‘Henry V’ (1599) epilogue
7.66.11 Henry VI, Part 1
Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 1, sc. 1, l. 1
Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days.
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 1, sc. 2, l. 131
Unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 2, sc. 2, l. 55
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 2, sc. 4, l. 17
Plantagenet: Let him that is a true-born gentleman, And stands upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,
From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. Somerset: Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth,
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 2, sc. 4, l. 27
Delays have dangerous ends.
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 3, sc. 2, l. 33
I owe him little duty and less love.
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 4, sc. 4, l. 34
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings.
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 5, sc. 3, l. 56
She’s beautiful and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.
‘Henry VI, Part 1’ (1592) act 5, sc. 3, l. 78.
7.66.12 Henry VI, Part 2
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 1, sc. 2, l. 11
Is this the fashion of the court of England? Is this the government of Britain’s isle, And this the royalty of Albion’s king?
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 1, sc. 3, l. [46]
She bears a duke’s revenues on her back, And in her heart she scorns our poverty.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 1, sc. 3, l. [83]
Could I come near your beauty with my nails I’d set my ten commandments in your face.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 1, sc. 3, l. [144]
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 3, sc. 2, l. 232
Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close; And let us all to meditation.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 3, sc. 3, l. 31
The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 4, sc. 1, l. 1
True nobility is exempt from fear: More can I bear than you dare execute.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 4, sc. 1, l. 129
I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 4, sc. 2, l. [10]
Cade: There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make it felony to drink small beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king,—as king I will be,
—...there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord.
Dick: The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 4, sc. 2, l. [73]
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?
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 4, sc. 2, l. [88]
And Adam was a gardener.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 4, sc. 2, l. [146]
Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school: and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used; and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 4, sc. 7, l. [35]
Away with him! away with him! he speaks Latin.
‘Henry VI, Part 2’ (1592) act 4, sc. 7, l. [62]
7.66.13 Henry VI, Part 3
O tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide!
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 1, sc. 4, l. 137
This battle fares like to the morning’s war, When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 1, sc. 5, l. 1
O 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.
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 1, sc. 5, l. 21
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroidered canopy
To kings that fear their subjects’ treachery?
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 1, sc. 5, l. 42
Peace! impudent and shameless Warwick, peace; Proud setter up and puller down of kings.
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 3, sc. 3, l. 156
A little fire is quickly trodden out,
Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench.
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 4, sc. 8, l. 7
Lo! now my glory smeared in dust and blood; My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Even now forsake me; and, of all my lands Is nothing left me but my body’s length.
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 5, sc. 2, l. 23
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 5, sc. 6, l. 11
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither.
‘Henry VI, Part 3’ (1592) act 5, sc. 6, l. 67
7.66.14 Henry VIII
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 1, sc. 1, l. 140
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; I had it from my father.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 1, sc. 4, l. 26
Go with me, like good angels, to my end; And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me, Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 2, sc. 1, l. 75
Chamberlain: It seems the marriage with his brother’s wife Has crept too near his conscience.
Suffolk: No; his conscience Has crept too near another lady.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 2, sc. 2, l. [17]
Heaven will one day open
The king’s eyes, that so long have slept upon This bold bad man.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 2, sc. 2, l. [42].
I would not be a queen For all the world.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 2, sc. 2, l. 45
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing die.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 1, l. 3
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 1, l. 99
A spleeny Lutheran.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 100
Then to breakfast with What appetite you have.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 203
I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 226
In all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus
Was still inscribed; in which you brought the king To be your servant.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 313
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new opened. O how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes’ favours! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 352
A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 380
A load would sink a navy.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 384
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by’t?
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues: be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim’st at be thy country’s,
Thy God’s, and truth’s: then if thou fall’st, O Cromwell! Thou fall’st a blessed martyr.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 441
Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 3, sc. 2, l. 456
She had all the royal makings of a queen.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 1, l. 87
An old man, broken with the storms of state Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 21
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to Heaven, and slept in peace.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 29
So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him!
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 31
He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 33
His promises were, as he then was, mighty; But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 41
Men’s evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 45
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading: Lofty and sour to them that loved him not;
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 51
Those twins of learning that he raised in you, Ipswich and Oxford!
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 58
After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honour from corruption,
Than such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 4, sc. 2, l. 69
I had thought
They had parted so much honesty among ’em,— At least, good manners,—as not thus to suffer A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships’ pleasures, And at the door too, like a post with packets.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 5, sc. 2, l. 26
’Tis a cruelty
To load a falling man.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 5, sc. 2, l. /76
In her days every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine what he plants; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 5, sc. 5, l. 34
Those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 5, sc. 5, l. 37
Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 5, sc. 5, l. 40
Some come to take their ease And sleep an act or two.
‘Henry VIII’ (1613) act 5, epilogue, l. 2
7.66.15 Julius Caesar
Hence! home, you idle creatures, get you home: Is this a holiday?
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 1, l. 1
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things! O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey?
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 1, l. [39]
Caesar: Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music,
Cry ‘Caesar’. Speak; Caesar is turned to hear. Soothsayer: Beware the ides of March.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 15
He is a dreamer; let us leave him: pass.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 24
I am not gamesome: I do lack some part Of that quick spirit that is in Antony.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 28
Brutus, I do observe you now of late:
I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 32
Poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 46
Set honour in one eye and death i’ the other, And I will look on both indifferently.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 86
Well, honour is the subject of my story. 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.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 92
I was born free as Caesar; so were you: We both have fed as well, and we can both Endure the winter’s cold as well as he: For once, upon a raw and gusty day,
The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, Caesar said to me, ‘Dar’st thou, Cassius, now, Leap in with me into this angry flood,
And swim to yonder point?’ Upon the word, Accoutréd as I was, I plungéd in,
And bade him follow...
But ere we could arrive the point proposed, Caesar cried, ‘Help me, Cassius, or I sink!’ I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder The old Anchises bear, so from the waves of Tiber Did I the tired Caesar. And this man
Is now become a god.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 97
He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark
How he did shake; ’tis true, this god did shake; His coward lips did from their colour fly,
And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 119
Ye gods, it doth amaze me,
A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone.
‘Julius Caesar’ (1599) act 1, sc. 2, l. 128
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. Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
