The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson, George Steevens, and Isaac Reed, Volume 2 |
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Page 159
Pist . ' Save you , sir John ! Fal . Welcome , ancient Pistol . Here , Pistol , I charge you with a cup of sack : do you discharge upon mine hostess . Pist . I will discharge upon her , sir John , with two bullets . a Fal .
Pist . ' Save you , sir John ! Fal . Welcome , ancient Pistol . Here , Pistol , I charge you with a cup of sack : do you discharge upon mine hostess . Pist . I will discharge upon her , sir John , with two bullets . a Fal .
Page 160
Come , I'll drink no proofs , nor no bullets ; I'll drink no more than will do me good , for no man's pleasure , I. Pist . Then to you , mistress Dorothy ; I will charge you . Dol . Charge me ? I scorn you , scurvy companion .
Come , I'll drink no proofs , nor no bullets ; I'll drink no more than will do me good , for no man's pleasure , I. Pist . Then to you , mistress Dorothy ; I will charge you . Dol . Charge me ? I scorn you , scurvy companion .
Page 161
Pist . Not I : tell thee what , corporal Bardolph ; -I could tear her : - I'll be revenged on her . Page . Pray thee , go down . Pist . I'll see her damned first ; -to Pluto's damned lake , to the infernal deep , with Erebus and ...
Pist . Not I : tell thee what , corporal Bardolph ; -I could tear her : - I'll be revenged on her . Page . Pray thee , go down . Pist . I'll see her damned first ; -to Pluto's damned lake , to the infernal deep , with Erebus and ...
Page 162
Pist . Sweet knight , I kiss thy neif : What ! we have seen the seven stars . Dol . Thrust him down stairs ; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal . Pist . Thrust him down stairs ! know we not Galloway nags ? Fal .
Pist . Sweet knight , I kiss thy neif : What ! we have seen the seven stars . Dol . Thrust him down stairs ; I cannot endure such a fustian rascal . Pist . Thrust him down stairs ! know we not Galloway nags ? Fal .
Page 226
Pist . God save you , sir John ! Fal . What wind blew you hither , Pistol ? Pist . Not the ill wind which blows no man to good . Sweet knight , thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm . Sil .
Pist . God save you , sir John ! Fal . What wind blew you hither , Pistol ? Pist . Not the ill wind which blows no man to good . Sweet knight , thou art now one of the greatest men in the realm . Sil .
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Common terms and phrases
answer arms Bard Bardolph bear better blood bring brother captain comes cousin crown Davy dead death devil doth Douglas duke earl England English Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith Falstaff father fear fellow field fight four France French friends give grace hand hanged Harry hath head hear heart heaven HENRY hold honour horse Host hour I'll Jack John keep king Lady leave live look lord majesty marry master means meet never night noble North once peace Percy Pist Pistol Poins poor pray prince SCENE Shal Shallow sir John soldier soul speak spirit stand sweet sword tell thee there's thing thou art thought thousand tongue true turn unto West Westmoreland
Popular passages
Page 169 - O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down. And steep my senses in forgetfulness ! Why, rather, Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber ; Than in the perfumed chambers of the great...
Page 169 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — Sleep, gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Page 83 - I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus' And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Page 279 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillness and humility ; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger ; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage.
Page 108 - When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; But now two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough : — this earth that bears thee dead Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
Page 98 - Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on, how then ? Can honour set to a leg ? No. Or an arm ? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour ? What is that honour ? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it ? He that died o
Page 169 - ning clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? Canst thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king?
Page 279 - Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon: let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Page 241 - On this unworthy scaffold, to bring forth So great an object: Can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France ? or may we cram Within this wooden O, the very casques, That did affright the air at Agincourt ? O, pardon!
Page 341 - Like to the senators of the antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, — Go forth, and fetch their conquering Caesar in : As, by a lower but by loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious empress (As in good time he may) from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him ! much more, and much more cause, Did they this Harry.
Bibliographic information
| Title | The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson, George Steevens, and Isaac Reed, Volume 2 The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson, George Steevens, and Isaac Reed, William Shakespeare |
| Author | William Shakespeare |
| Publisher | Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1807 |
| Original from | the New York Public Library |
| Digitized | 27 Dec 2006 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |