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Let not the world see fear and sad distrust
Govern the motion of a kingly eye.

Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;
Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow
Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behaviours from the great,
Grow great by your example, and put on
The dauntless spirit of resolution,


Away and glister like the god of war,
When he intendeth to become the field:
Show boldness and aspiring confidence.

What, shall they seek the lion in his den,

And fright him there? And make him tremble there? O, let it not be said! Forage, and run

To meet displeasure further from the doors,

And grapple with him, ere he come so nigh.

A Man's Tears.

Let me wipe off this honourable dew, That silvery doth progress on thy cheeks; My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, Being an ordinary inundation;

But this effusion of such manly drops,

This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,
And with a great heart heave away this storm:
Commend these waters to those baby eyes,
That never saw the giant world enrag'd;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.

Faulconbridge's Disparagement of the French Army.

Now hear our English king:

For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
He is prepar'd; and reason, too, he should:
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd mask, and unadvised revel,
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops,
The king doth smile at, and is well prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.

That hand which had the strength, even at your door,
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch;
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells;
To crouch in litter of your stable planks;

To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks;
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons; and to thrill, and shake,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow,†
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ;—
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement?
No: know, the gallant monarch is in arms,
And, like an eagle, o'er his aiery towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.

Faulconbridge's Defiance of the Dauphin.

Do but start

An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac❜d,
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine;

* Unbearded, alluding to the youth of the Dauphin.
†The crowing of a cock.

Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder.

The Approach of Death.

It is too late; the life of all his blood

Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house)
Doth by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality.

King John's Death by Poison.

Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room;
It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust:
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment; and against this fire
Do I shrink up.

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Poison' d-ill-fare ;-dead, forsook, cast off:
And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course

Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, And comfort me with cold.

England Invincible if Unanimous.

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,

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And we shall shock them: Naught shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.



This historical play describes the dethronement and death of the monarch whose name it bears. Richard, on the death of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, appropriates to himself the lands of the deceased nobleman, to enable him to prosecute a war in Ireland, for which country he takes his departure. In the king's absence, Bolingbroke (son of John of Gaunt), who had been banished, returns to England, and levying an army, hastens to meet the king on his return from Ireland. Finding his nobles falling away from him, and his soldiers deserting his standard, the king accompanies Bolingbroke to London, and there resigns his crown to him. The dethroned monarch is imprisoned in Pomfret Castle, where he is assassinated by Sir Pierce of Exton, and the play concludes with the reproval of Exton by Bolingbroke, who resolves himself to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, to expiate his cruelty towards the unfortunate King Richard. Dr. Johnson says of this tragedy-"It is not finished at last with that happy force of some others of Shakspere's tragedies; nor can it be said much to affect the passions, or enlarge the understanding."

Аст I.


THE purest treasure mortal times afford
Is-spotless reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.


That which in mean men we entitle―patience, Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.


All places, that the eye of heaven visits,
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens :
Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
There is no virtue like necessity.

Think not, the king did banish thee;

But thou the king; woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say--I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not-the king exiled thee: or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it

To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st;
Suppose the singing birds musicians;

The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd ; The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps no more

Than a delightful measure, or a dance:


For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite

The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.

Imagination Ineffectual to Moderate Afflictions.

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's snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?

*Grumbling, snarling.

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