Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
againſt arms Bard Bardolph bear better blood Boling brother captain changes comes couſin Crown Davy dead death doth Duke Earl England Engliſh Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair father fear fight firſt follow France French friends give Grace hand Harry haſt hath head hear heart heav'n Henry hold honour horſe I'll keep King Lady leave live look lord Majeſty maſter means meet moſt muſt never night noble North once peace Percy Piff Poins poor pray Prince Pucel Rich Richard S C E N E ſaid ſay ſee ſelf ſet Shal ſhall ſhe ſhould Sir john ſoldiers ſome ſon ſoul ſpeak ſtand ſuch ſweet Talbot tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou art thought tongue true turn uncle unto whoſe
Seite 102 - 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 ; So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities : But out upon this half-faced fellowship ! Wor.
Seite 263 - 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. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit; and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!
Seite 208 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the shipboy'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 deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Seite 70 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious ; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him...
Seite 294 - By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires; But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Seite 23 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...
Seite 209 - With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Seite 87 - To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd For our advantage on the bitter cross.
Seite 262 - Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.