Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. Once more vnto the Breach,
King. Deare friends, once more;
King. Or close the Wall vp with our English dead:
King. In Peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
King. As modest stillnesse, and humilitie:
King. But when the blast of Warre blowes in our eares,
King. Then imitate the action of the Tyger:
King. Stiffen the sinewes, commune vp the blood,
King. Disguise faire Nature with hard-fauour'd Rage:
King. Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:
King. Let it pry through the portage of the Head,
King. Like the Brasse Cannon: let the Brow o'rewhelme it,
King. As fearefully, as doth a galled Rocke
King. O're-hang and iutty his confounded Base,
King. Swill'd with the wild and wastfull Ocean.
King. Now set the Teeth, and stretch the Nosthrill wide,
King. Hold hard the Breath, and bend vp euery Spirit
King. To his full height. On, on, you Noblish English,
King. Whose blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe:
King. Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,