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Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And, with a blessed and unvex'd retire,
With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruised,
We will bear home that lusty blood again,
Which here we came to spout against your town,
And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace.

157

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise;

This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection,* and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happier lands;

16-ii. 2.

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England:

Dear for her reputation through the world. 17-ii. 1.

158

The natural bravery of your isle; which stands
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in

With rocks unscalable, and roaring waters;

With sands, that will not bear your enemies' boats,
But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of conquest
Cæsar made here; but made not here his brag
Of, came, and saw, and overcame: with shame
(The first that ever touch'd him), he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,
(Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas,
Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, crack'd
As easily 'gainst our rocks: For joy whereof,
The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point
(O, giglott fortune!) to master Cæsar's sword,
Made Lud's town with rejoicing fires bright,
And Britons strut with courage.

159

31-iii. 1.

That pale, that white-faced shore,

*Should it not be insection?

† Strumpet.

England is supposed to be called Albion, from the white rocks

facing France.

Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring
And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedged in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Even till that utmost corner of the west
Salute thee for her king.

160

I' the world's volume

Our Britian seems as of it, but not in it:

In a great pool, a swan's nest.

161

England never did (nor never shall)

Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,

But when it first did help to wound itself.

16-ii. 1.

31-iii. 4.

Come the three corners of the world in arms,

And we shall shock them: Nought shall make us rue,

If England to itself do rest but true.

162

England, bound in with the triumphant sea,

16-v. 7.

Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege

Of watery Neptune.

163

Britain is a world by itself.

164

17-ii. 1.

31-iii. 1.

To prove that true

Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds,

Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took,

When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,

In single opposition, hand to hand,

He did confound the best part of an hour

In changing hardiment with great Glendower;

Three times they breath'd, and three times they did

drink,

Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;

Who, then, affrighted with their bloody looks,

Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,

And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,

Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. 18-i. 3.

165

Suppose, that you have seen

The well-appointed king at Hampton pier
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet

With silken streamers, the young Phœbus fanning.
Play with your fancies; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing:
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confused: behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea,
Breasting the lofty surge.
20-iii. Chorus.

166

Where's the king?

Contending with the fretful element;

Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea,

Or swell the curved waters 'bove the main,*

That things might change, or cease; tears his white

hair;

Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,

Catch in their fury, and make nothing of:

Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn

The to-and-fro conflicting wind and rain.

This night, wherein the cub-drawn beart would couch
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf

Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will take all. ¡

167

34-iii. 1.

Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop
Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun?
They promised me eternal happiness;
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall,
Assuredly.

168

As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious:

*The main land, the continent.

Whose dugs are drawn dry by its young.

25-iv. 2.

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him;
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home:
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head;
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,-
His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,—

That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him.

But Heaven hath a hand in these events;

To whose high will be bound our calm contents.

169

17-v. 2.

All tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights
Are spectacled to see him: Your prattling nurse
Into a rapture* lets her baby cry,

While she chats him: the kitchen malkint pins
Her richest lockram 'bout her reechy neck,
Clambering the walls to eye him: Stalls, bulks, win-
dows,

Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges horsed
With variable complexions; all agreeing

In earnestness to see him: seld-shown flamens T
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff
To win a vulgar station:** our veil'd dames
Commit the war of white and damask, in

Their nicely-gawded†† cheeks, to the wanton spoil
Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother,
As if that whatsoever god, who leads him,
Were slily crept into his human powers,
And gave him graceful posture.

170

I have seen

28-ii. 1.

The dumb men throng to see him, and the blind
To hear him speak: The matrons flung their gloves,
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
Upon him as he pass'd; the nobles bended,

As to Jove's statue; and the commons made

*Fit.

† Maid.

§ Soiled with sweat and smoke. **Common standing-place.

t Best linen.
Seldom.
tt Adorned.

T Priests.

A shower, and thunder, with their caps, and shouts; I never saw the like.

171

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,

28-ii. 1.

And witcht the world with noble horsemanship.

172

This town is full of cozenage;

18-iv. 1.

As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin.

173

Thou trumpet,

14-i. 2.

Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe:
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek

Out-swell the colic of puff'd Aquilon :

Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood; Thou blow'st for Hector.

26-iv. 5.

174

Do but start

An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready braced,
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine;
Sound but another, and another shall,

As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder.

175

16-v. 2.

From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stillyt sounds,

That the fix'd sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other's watch:

Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other's umber'd§ face:

* Armour.

† Bewitch, charm.

§ Discoloured by the gleam of fires.

Gently, lowly.

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