The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?

(O, pardon me, that I descend so low, To show the line, and the predicament, Wherein you range under this subtle king, -)

Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days,

Or fill up chronicles in time to come, That men of your nobility and power, Did gage them both in an unjust behalf,

As both of you, God pardon it! have done,

To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,

And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?

Send danger from the east unto the west,

So honor cross it from the north to south,

And let them grapple; O! the blood more stirs

an

To rouse a lion than to start a hare. By heaven, methinks, it were easy leap,

To pluck bright Honor from the palefaced moon;

Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,

And pluck up drownèd honor by the locks;

So he that doth redeem her thence,

No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not:

I'll keep them, by this hand.

I will; that's flat:

He said he would not ransom Mortimer;

Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer;

But I will find him when he lies asleep,

And in his ear I'll holla-"Mortimer!"

Nay,

I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak

Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,

To keep his anger still in motion.
All studies here I solemnly defy,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bo-
lingbroke:

And that same sword-and-buckler
Prince of Wales, -

But that I think his father loves him not,

And would be glad he met with some mischance,

I'd have him poisoned with a pot of ale.

Why, look you, I am whipped and scourged with rods,

Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear

Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke. In Richard's time, What do you call the place?

A plague upon't! it is in Gloucestershire;

'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept;

His uncle York; - where I first bowed my knee

Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,

When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.

Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!

Look,

And,

when his infant fortune came to age,

gentle Harry Percy, — and kind cousin,

The devil take such cozeners!— Heaven forgive me!

Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have

done.

SHAKSPEARE: King Henry IV.

HENRY V.'S AUDIENCE OF FRENCH AMBASSADORS.

Henry V.-Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin. The KING

[Exit an ATTENDANT.

ascends his throne.] Now are we well resolved: and, by God's help,

And yours, the noble sinews of our power, France being ours, we'll bend it to our awe,

Or break it all to pieces: or there we'll sit,

Ruling in large and ample empery, O'er France, and all her almost kingly dukedoms,

Orlay these bones in an unworthy urn, Tombless, with no remembrance over them:

Either our history shall, with full mouth,

Speak freely of our acts; or else our grave,

Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,

Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.

Enter AMBASSADORS OF FRANCE. Now are we well prepared to know the pleasure

Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for we hear

Your greeting is from him, not from

the king.

We never valued this poor seat of England;

And therefore, living hence, did give ourself

To barbarous license; as 'tis ever common,

That men are merriest when they are from home.

But tell the Dauphin, -I will keep my state;

Be like a king, and show my sail of greatness,

When I do rouse me in my throne of France:

For that I have laid by my majesty, And plodded like a man for workingdays;

But I will rise there with so full a glory,

That I will dazzle all the eyes of France,

Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us.

BATTLE ON ST. CRISPIAN'S

DAY.

Westmoreland. -O that we now had here

(Enter KING HENRY)

But one ten thousand of those men in England

That do no work to-day!

K. Henry.- What's he that wishes so?

My cousin Westmoreland? — No, my fair cousin:

If we are marked to die, we are enough

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater share of

honor.

God's will! I pray thee, wish not

one man more.

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 outer things dwell not in my desires:

But, if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, 'faith, my coz, wish not a man
from England:

God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor,

As one man more, methinks, would share from me,

For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more:

Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,

That he who hath no stomach to this fight,

Let him depart; his passport shall be made,

And crowns for convoy put into his

Crispian:

is Saint

Then will he strip his sleeves, and show his scars,

And say, these wounds I had on Crispian's day.

Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,

But he'll remember, with advantages,

What feats he did that day: then shall our names,

Familiar in their mouths as household words,

Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster,

Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered:

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 remembered: 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 abed,

Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,

And

hold their manhood cheap, while any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. SHAKSPEARE.

KING RICHARD'S SOLILOQUY.

Richard III. -Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this son of York;

And all the clouds, that lowered upon our house,

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.