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againſt anſwer arms Bard Bardolph bear better blood Boling brother Changes comes couſin Crown dead death doth Duke Earl England Engliſh Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair father fear fight firſt follow France French friends give Grace hand Harry haſt hath head hear heart heav'n Henry Hoft hold honour horſe I'll keep King Lady Land leave live look lord Majeſty maſter means meet moſt muſt never night noble North once peace Percy play Poins poor Pope pray Prince Pucel Queen Rich Richard ſaid ſay SCENE ſee ſelf ſet ſhall ſhe ſhould Sir John ſome ſon ſoul ſpeak ſtand ſuch ſweet ſword Talbot tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou art thought tongue true uncle unto whoſe York
Strana 117 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities : But out upon this half-faced fellowship ! Wor.
Strana 187 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere 'scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
Strana 392 - By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires; But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Strana 52 - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp...
Strana 411 - Like to the senators of the antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in: As, by a lower but loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him!
Strana 281 - He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity...
Strana 249 - O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Strana 187 - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Strana 252 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased ; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured.