“Then forth, dear countrymen: let us deliverOur puissance into the hand of God,Putting it straight in expedition.Cheerly to sea; the signs of war advance:No king of England, if not king of France.”

“Cheerily to sea; the signs of war advance:No king of England, if not king of France”

“Of France and England, did this king succeed;Whose state so many had the managing.That they lost France and made his England bleed.”

“in that small [time] most greatly lived this star of England:Fortune made his sword, By which the world's best garden he achiev'dAnd left it to his son imperial lord.Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd Kingof France and England did this King succeed;Whose state so many of had the managing,That they lost France and made his England bleed.”

“This royal throne of kings, this scepter’d isle,This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,This other Eden, demi-paradise,This fortress built by Nature for herselfAgainst 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 wallOr as a moat defensive to a house,Against the envy of less happier lands,This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,Fear’d by their breed and famous by their birth,Renowned for their deeds as far from home,For Christian service and true chivalry,As is the sepulchre in stubborn JewryOf the world’s ransom, blessed Mary’s Son,This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,Dear for her reputation through the world,Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it,Like to a tenement or pelting farm:England, bound in with the triumphant sea,Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siegeOf watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:That England, that was wont to conquer others,Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,How happy then were my ensuing death!”

“O, let me kiss that hand!KING LEAR: Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.”

“We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us;His present and your pains we thank you for:When we have match'd our rackets to these balls,We will, in France, by God's grace, play a setShall strike his father's crown into the hazard. King Henry, scene ii”