Shakespeare, Henry V

Two bits from the play that I'm currently grappling with, both spoken by the pseudonymous Henry V:

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-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let 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. ( Read more... )

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
(4.2.44-67)

Rawr! That Henry. Great motivational speaker. Massive dick. Henry V, ladies and gentlemen.

The Kenneth Branagh St. Crispian here, and here, going into the breach. Oh Branagh.

spamming you with school-ish sturm und drang

My epic Henry V essay in nine words: pay no attention to the nations behind the curtain.



By the way, I'm freaking DONE. \o/