(The Second Part of Henry VI)
O Lord that lends me life,
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
(King Henry, 1.1, 19-23)
Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart
And dimmed mine eyes that I can read no further.
(Gloucester, 1.1, 51-52)
O peers of England, shameful is this league,
Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame,
Blotting your names from books of memory,
Razing the characters of your renown,
Defacing monuments of conquered France,
Undoing all, as all had never been!
(Gloucester, 1.1, 94-99)
The poor king Rene, whose large style
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.
(Gloucester, 1.1, 107-108)
And force perforce I’ll make him yield the crown,
Whose bookish rule hath pulled fair England down.
(York, 1.1, 257-258)
Contemptuous base-born callet as she is,
(Queen Margaret, 1.3, 87)
The time of night when Troy was set on fire,
The time when screech-owls cry and bandogs howl,
And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves -
That time best first the work we have in hand.
(Bolingbroke, 1.4, 16-19)
These oracles are hardily attained
And hardily understood.
(York, 1.4, 58-59)
‘tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
(Gloucester, 2.1, 13-14)
How irksome is this music to my heart!
When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?
(King Henry, 2.1, 59-60)
And poise the cause in justice’ equal scales,
Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.
(King Henry, 2.1, 214-215)
It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee
And in thy sons, fairs slips of such a stock.
(Warwick, 2.2, 57-58)
Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays;
Thus Eleanor’s pride dies in her youngest days.
(Suffolk, 2.3, 45-46)
Take hence that traitor from our sight,
For by his death we do perceive his guilt.
(King Henry, 2.3, 101-102)
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud;
And after summer evermore succeeds
Barren winter with his wrathful nipping cold;
So cares and joys abound as seasons fleet.
(Gloucester, 2.4, 1-4)
Look how they gaze,
See how the giddy multitude do point
And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee.
(Duchess, 2.4, 21-23)
Dark shall be my light, and night my day.
To think upon my pomp shall be my hell.
(Duchess, 2.4, 41-42)
My shame will not be shifted with my sheet -
No, it will hang upon my richest robes
And show itself, attire me how I can.
(Duchess, 2.4, 108-110)
Small curs are not regarded when they grin,
But great men tremble when the lion roars.
(Queen Margaret, 3.1, 18-19)
Now ‘tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
Suffer them now, and they’ll o’er grow the garden,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
(Queen Margaret, 3.1, 31-33
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.
(Suffolk, 3.1, 53-55)
Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?
(Queen Margaret, 3.1, 79)
A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.
(Gloucester, 3.1, 100)
The purest spring is not so free from mud
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign.
(Gloucester, 3.1, 101-102)
Virtue is choked with foul ambition,
And charity chased hence by rancour’s hand.
(Gloucester, 3.1, 143-144)
For thousands more that yet suspect no peril
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
(Gloucester, 3.1, 152-153)
In thy face I see
The maps of honour, truth, and loyalty;
(King Henry, 3.1, 203-204)
Who being accused a crafty murderer,
His guilt should be but idly posted over
Because his purpose is not executed?
(Suffolk, 3.1, 253-255)
Show me one scar charactered on thy skin.
Men’s flesh preserved so whole do seldom win.
(York, 3.1, 300-301)
Be that thou hop’st to be, or what thou art
Reign to death; it is not worth th’enjoying.
(York, 3.1, 333-334)
I will stir up in England some black storm
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell.
(York, 3.1, 349-350)
Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty to fright the world.
(King Henry, 3.2, 49-50)
Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh,
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,
But will suspect ‘twas he that made the slaughter.
(Warwick, 3.2, 188-190)
But here’s a vengeful sword, rusted with ease,
That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart
That slanders me with murder’s crimson badge.
(Suffolk, 3.2, 198-200)
And after all this fearsome homage done,
Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell,
Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men.
(Warwick, 3.2, 224-226)
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?
(King Henry, 3.2, 232)
Mischance and sorrow go along with you!
Heart’s discontent and sour affliction
Be playfellows to keep you company!
(Queen Margaret, 3.2, 303-305)
Not let the rain of heaven wet this place
To wash away my woeful monuments.
(Queen Margaret, 3.2, 343-344)
Live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in naught but that thou liv’st.
(Suffolk, 3.2, 367-368)
And with the southern clouds contend in tears -
Theirs for the earth’s increase, mine for sorrow’s?
(Queen Margaret, 3.2, 386-387)
From thee to die were torture more than death.
(Suffolk, 3.2, 403)
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life
Where death’s approach is seen so terrible.
(King Henry, 3.3, 5-6)
O, beat away the busy meddling fiend
That lays strong siege unto this wretch’s soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair.
(King Henry, 3.3, 21-23)
So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
(Warwick, 3.3, 30)
Here shall they make their ransom on the sand,
Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore.
(Captain, 4.1, 10-11)
When merchant-like I sell revenge,
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced,
And I proclaimed a coward through the world.
(Whitmore, 4.1, 42-44)
Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art thou.
(Suffolk, 4.1, 68)
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell.
(Captain, 4.1, 79)
By devilish policy are thou grown great,
And like ambitious Sylla, over gorged
With gobbets of they mother’s bleeding heart.
(Captain, 4.1, 83-85)
Reproach and beggary
Is crept into the palace of our king,
(Captain, 4.1, 101-102)
O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges.
(Suffolk, 4.1, 104-105)
Drones suck not eagles’ blood, but rob beehives.
(Suffolk, 4.1, 109)
No, rather let my head
Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any
Save to the God of heaven and to my king.
(Suffolk, 4.1, 126-128)
True nobility is exempt from fear;
More can I bear than you dare execute.
(Suffolk, 4.1, 131-132)
I ask but this - can he that speaks with the tongue
Of an enemy be a good counsellor or no?
(Cade, 4.2, 154-155)
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.
(Saye, 4.7, 66-67)
As for words, whose greatness answers words,
Let this my sword report what speech forbears.
(Iden, 4.9, 50-51)
Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still -
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.
(Richard, 5.2, 5-6)
Beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims
Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax.
(Young Clifford, 5.3, 54-55)
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