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Anne arms bear better blood body brother Buck Buckingham Cade Clar Clarence Clifford comes crown curse dead death doth Duch duke earl Edward Eliz enemies England Enter Exeunt eyes fair father fear fight follow Forces France friends gentle give Gloster grace Grey hand hast hath head hear heart heaven Henry highness honour hope I'll John keep king KING HENRY Lady leave live London look lord madam majesty March Margaret mean Mess mind mother Murd never night noble once peace poor prince queen rest Rich Richard SCENE shame soldiers Somerset soul sovereign speak stand stay Suff Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tears tell thee thine thou thou art thought Tower traitor true uncle unto Warwick wife York young
Página 200 - O God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain : To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run...
Página 200 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, • His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Página 362 - Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die: I think, there be six Richmonds in the field ; Five have I slain to-day, instead of him: — A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! [Exeunt.
Página 358 - I shall, despair. — There is no creature loves me ; And, if I die, no soul will pity me : — Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself.
Página 312 - My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, I saw good strawberries in your garden there : I do beseech you send for some of them.
Página 200 - Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings, that fear their subjects
Página 358 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty, guilty!
Página 259 - Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute...