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And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
Mor. You are too great to be by me gainsaid: Your spirit® is too true, your fears too certain. North. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's
dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye: Thou shak'st thy head; and hold'st it fear, or sin, To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so: The tongue offends not, that reports his death: And he doth sin, that doth belie the dead; Not he, which says the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office; and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Remember'd knolling a departing friend.
Bard. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to believe That, which I would to heaven I had not seen: But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rend'ring faint quittance,' wearied and out-breath'd, To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung up. In few, his death (whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,) Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-temper'd courage in his troops: For from his metal was his party steeld; Which once in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing that's heavy in itself, Upon enforcement, flies with greatest speed; So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
* Your spirit - ] The impression upon your mind, by which you conceive the death of your son. -- hold'st it fear, or sin,] Fear for danger,
faint quittance,] Quittance is return.
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear,
North. For this I shall have time enough to
In poison there is physick; and these news,
crutch; A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly
? Gan vail his stomach,] Began to fall his courage, to let his spirits sink under his fortune. From avaller, Fr. to cast down, or to fall down.
buckle -] Bend; yield to pressure. + — nice -] i. e. trifling.
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring,
honour. Mor. The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er To stormy passion, must perforce decay. You cast the event of war, my noble lord, And summ'd the account of chance, before you
said, Let us make head. It was your presurmise, That, in the dole of blows your son might drop: You knew, he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge, More likely to fall in, than to get o’er: You were advis'd, his flesh was capable Of wounds, and scars; and that his forward spirit Would lift him where most trade of danger rang’d; Yet did you say, Go forth; and none of this, Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-borne action: What hath then befallen,
5 And darkness be the burier of the dead!] The conclusion of this noble speech is extremely striking. There is no need to suppose it exactly philosophical; darkness, in poetry, may be absence of eyes, as well as privation of light. Yet we may remark, that by an ancient opinion it has been held, that if the human race, for whom the world was made, were extirpated, the whole system or sublunary nature would cease. Johnson.
Or what hath this bold enterprize brought forth,
Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss,
more and less,] More and less mean greater and less.
This present grief had wip'd it from my mind.
London. A Street.
Enter Sir John FALSTAFF, with his Page bearing
his Sword and Buckler. Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to
Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water: but, for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than he knew for.
Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me:? The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to vent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me: I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee, like a sow, that hath overwhelmed all her litter but
If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now:: but I
to gird at me:) i. e. to gibe.
mandrake,] Mandrake is a root supposed to have the shape of a man; it is now counterfeited with the root of briony.
9 I was never manned with an agate till now:] That is, I never before had an agate for my man. Alluding to the little figures cut in agates, and other hard stones, for seals, and therefore he says, I will set you neither in gold nor silver.