He call'd them-untaught knaves, unmannerly, With many holyday and lady terms He question'd me: among the rest, demanded My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf. I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, To be so pester'd with a popinjay, Out of my grief and my impatience, Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what; He should, or he should not;-for he made me mad, To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the mark!) And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd K. HENRY IV., PART I., A. 1, s. 3. THE WARRIOR'S ANGER. ALL the contagion of the south light on you, You shames of Rome !-you herd of-Boils and plagues Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorr'd Further than seen, and one infect another Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and hell! All hurt behind; backs red, and faces pale With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge home, Or, by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, And make my wars on you: look to't: Come on; If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their wives, As they us to our trenches followed. CORIOLANUS, A. 1, s. 4. THE WARRIOR'S DEATH. MELUN. Lead me to the revolts of England here. SALISBURY. When we were happy, we had other names. PEMBROKE. It is the count Melun. SAL. MEL. Wounded to death. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, SAL. May this be possible? may this be true? MEL. Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life; Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours But even this night,-whose black contagious breath Already smokes about the burning crest Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, KING JOHN, a. 5, s. 4. THE WARRIOR'S DEATH. IN which array, (brave soldier,) doth he lie, Suffolk first died: and York, all haggled over, Upon these words I came, and cheer'd him up: So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips; And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd A testament of noble-ending love. The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd; But I had not so much of man in me, But all my mother came into mine eyes, K. HENRY V., A. 4, s. 6. THE WARRIOR'S DEFIANCE. THE fires i'the lowest hell fold in the people! Call me their traitor ?-Thou injurious tribune, Within thine eyes sat twenty thousand deaths, In thy hands clutch'd as many millions, in I'll know no further: Let them pronounce the steep Tarpeian death, CORIOLANUS, A. 3, s. 3. THE WARRIOR'S DEFIANCE. LET not my cold words here accuse my zeal: The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; Setting aside his high blood's royalty, I do defy him, and I spit at him; Call him-a slanderous coward, and a villain : |