Courage and Strength

Unhand me, gentlemen, By heaven! I’ll make a ghost of him that lets me.

My fate cries out, And makes each petty artery in this body As hardy as the Nemean lion’s nerve.

I do not set my life at a pin’s fee.

Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly.

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.

We’ll have a swashing and a martial outside, As many other mannish cowards have.

There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm’d so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not.

But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix’d and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.

Well, honor is the subject of my story. I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.

Set honor in one eye and death i’ the other, And I will look on both indifferently.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he today that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.

This day is call’d the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d. And rouse him at the name of Crispian.

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts; Possess them not with fear; take from them now The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them.

A little touch of Harry in the night.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot: Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge Cry “God for Harry! England and Saint George!”

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-favor’d rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect.

We ready are to try our fortunes To the last man.

Why, then the world’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame way with more advised watch, To find the other forth, and by adventuring both, I oft found both.

Full bravely hast thou flesh’d Thy maiden sword.

To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus And witch the world with noble horsemanship.

By heaven methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honor from the pale-fac’d moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honor by the locks.

O! the blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare!

Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.