Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,-
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ;
For he, to-day, that sheds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs'd, they were not here;
And hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
King Henry's Reply to the Herald sent by the Constable of France, summoning him to surrender.
pray thee, bear my former answer back,
Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones.
Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus? The man that once did sell the lion's skin
While the beast lived, was kill'd with hunting him.
A many of our bodies shall, no doubt,
Find native graves; upon the which I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work:
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them,
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven;
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Mark then, abounding valour in our English;
That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing,
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of mortality.
Let me speak proudly:-Tell the constable,
We are but warriors for the working day;*
Our gayness and our gilt, are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
There's not a piece of feather in our host
(Good argument, I hope, we shall not fly),
And time hath worn us into slovenry:
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim:
And my poor soldiers tell me—yet ere night
They'll be in fresher robes; or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads,
And turn them out of service. If they do this
(As, if God please, they shall), my ransom then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald ;
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints:
Which if they have as I will leave 'em to them,
Shall yield them little, tell the constable.
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleach'd
Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs: 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
* Indifferently clad. † Ploughshare.
To deracinate is to force up by the roots.
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;
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness;
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children,
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country.
This play records the strife between the English and French, which is renewed on the death of Henry the Fifth, and the contract of marriage between Henry the Sixth and Margaret of Anjou. Joan of Arc, who is a prominent character in the play, after some successes against the English, is taken prisoner, and condemned to be burnt at the stake.
GLORY is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,
Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.
The Earl of Suffolk's Admiration for Margaret
of Anjou.
I have no power to let her pass;
My hand would free her, but my heart says-no.
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak.
The Earl of Suffolk's Description of Margaret to the
King.
Is but a preface of her worthy praise.
The chief perfections of that lovely dame
(Had I sufficient skill to utter them)
Would make a volume of enticing lines,
Able to ravish any dull conceit.
And, which is more, she is not so divine,
So full replete with choice of all delights,
But, with as humble lowliness of mind,
She is content to be at your command.
Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.*
For what is wedlock forced, but a hell,
An age of discord and continual strife?
Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss,
And is a pattern of celestial peace.
In the Second Part of Henry the Sixth, Shakspere introduces us to the feud, in its incipient state, between the rival houses of York
An important episode in the play is the insurrection, headed by Jack Cade, who is at the first successful, but in the end is killed. The play concludes with the Battle of St. Albans, in which the York faction triumphs, and the king and queen fly to London.
A Resolved and Ambitious Woman.
FOLLOW I must, I cannot go before,
While Gloster bears this base and humble mind.
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks,
And smooth my way upon their headless necks:
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in fortune's pageant.
God's Goodness ever to be Remembered.
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.
The Duchess of Gloster's (when doing Penance)
Remonstrance to her Husband.
For, whilst I think I am thy married wife,
And thou a prince, protector of this land,
Methinks, I should not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in shame,* with papers on my back,
And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice.
To see my tears, and hear my deep-fet† groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
* Wrapped up in disgrace; alluding to the sheet of penance. + Deep-fetched.
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