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Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly:
He that is truly dedicate to war,
Hath no self-love; nor he, that loves himself,
Hath not essentially, but by circumstance,
The name of valour.
In a moment, look to see
The blind and bloody soldier, with foul hand,
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters;
Your fathers taken by the silver beards,
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls;
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes;
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd
Do break the clouds.
The nimble gunner
With linstock now the devilish cannon touches.
See a siege:
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
Mortal staring war.
God forgive the sins of all those souls,
That to their everlasting residence,
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king.
H.V. iii. chorus.
Follow thy drum;
With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:
Religious canons, civil laws, are cruel;
Then what should war be?
Why have they dar'd to march
So many miles upon her peaceful bosom ;
Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war,
And ostentation of despightful arms?
He is their god; he leads them like a thing,
Made by some other deity than nature,
That shapes man better; and they follow him,
Against us brats, with no less confidence,
Than boys pursuing summer butterflies,
Or butchers killing flies.
T. A. iv. 3. R. III. v. 3.
C. iv. 6.
Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still :
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. H. VI. pt. II. v. 2.
Alas, poor country!
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot
Be call'd our mother, but our grave; where nothing,
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile;
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rend the air,
Are made, not mark'd; where violent sorrow seems
A modern ecstacy; the dead man's knell,
Is there scarce ask'd, for who; and good men's lives
Expire before the flowers in their caps,
Dying, or ere they sicken.
M. iv. 3.
Therefore, my Harry,
Be it thy course to busy giddy minds
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out,
May waste the memory of the former days.
Examples, gross as earth, exhort me:
Witness, this army of such mass, and charge,
Led by a delicate and tender prince ;
Whose spirit, by divine ambition puff'd,
Makes mouths at the invisible event;
Exposing what is mortal, and unsure,
To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare,
Even for an egg-shell.
England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
The father rashly slaughter'd his own son,
The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire.
He is come to ope
The purple testament of bleeding war;
But ere the crown he looks for live in peace,
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons
Shall ill-become the flower of England's face;
Change the complexion of her maid-pale face,
To scarlet indignation, and bedew
Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood.
Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous!
Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition,
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads?
Or shall we, on the helmets of our foes,
Tell our devotion with revengeful arms!
And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand:
Foul subornation is predominant,
And equity exil'd your highness' land. H. VI. PT. II. iii. 1.
I'll use the advantage of my power,
And lay the summer's dust with show'rs of blood,
Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen.
Let confusion of one part, confirm
The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and death.
At this time,
We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his friend;
And the best quarrels, in the heat, are curs'd
By those that feel their sharpness.
Let them come;
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoking war,
All hot and bleeding, will we offer them :
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood.
Your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums;
Their thimbles into armed guantlets change,
Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.
K. J. v. 2.
It is war's prize to take all vantages,
And ten to one is no impeach of valour. H. VI. PT. III. i. 4.
Thou know'st, great son,
The end of war's uncertain.
C. v. 3.
O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs ;
And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men,
In undetermin'd differences of kings.
H. IV. PT. I. iv. 1.
Come, let us make a muster speedily:
Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. H. IV. PT. 1. iv. 1.
It may well serve
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick
For breathing and exploit.
The gallant monarch is in arms;
And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.
Away, you trifler! Love? I love thee not,
I care not for thee, Kate; this is no world,
To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips:
We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns,
And pass them current too:-Gods me, my horse!
I do believe,
Statist though I am none, nor like to be,
That this will prove a war.
Cym ii. 4.
Let me have war, say I; it exceeds peace, as far as day does night; it's spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent. C. iv. 5.
They shall have wars, and pay for their presumption.
H.VI. PT. III. iv. 1.
How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i' faith? must
we all march?
H.IV. PT. I. iii. 3.
O virtuous fight,
When right with right wars, who shall be most right.
T.C. iii. 2.
The bay-trees in our country all are wither'd,
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;
The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth,
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change;
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,
The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy,
The other, to enjoy by rage and war.
To paint the lily is wasteful.
I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance;
Less valiant than the virgin in the night,
And skilless as unpractis'd infancy.
Why, you speak like an antient and most quiet watchman; for I cannot see how sleeping should offend. M. A. iii. 3. WEAKNESS.
This milky gentleness, and course of yours,
Though I condemn it not, yet, under pardon,
You are much more attask'd for want of wisdom,
Than prais'd for harmful mildness.
How i' the name of thrift doth he rake this together?
H.VIII. iii. 2.
THE ASSUMED AND ASSIGNED PRIVILEGES OF. Faults that are rich, are fair. T.A. i. 2. WEEPING (See also GRIEF, LAMENTATION, SORROW, TEARS)
Give me no help in lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth laments:
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the wat'ry moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
To weep is to make less the depth of grief.
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brim full of sorrow, and dismay; but chiefly,
Him you term'd, Sir, the good old lord Gonzalo ;
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops
From eaves of reeds.
No, I'll not weep:-
I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep.
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.
Sir, you are very welcome to our house;
It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
I cannot weep: for all my body's moisture
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart.
H.VI. PT. III. ii. 1.
T. G. ii. 3.
Things done well,
And with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
THE DUTY OF.
We are born to do benefits.
"Twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. WELCOME.
A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep,
And I could laugh; I am light, and heavy: welcome:
A curse begin at very root of his heart,
That is not glad to see thee!
C. ii. 1.
M.V. v. 1.
I reckon this always,-that a man is never undone till he be hanged; nor never welcome to a place till some certain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome. T. G. ii. 5. If thou wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. H. IV. PT. II. v. 3.