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againſt Anne arms bear better blood brother Buck Buckingham Cade Cardinal Changes Clarence Clifford comes crown dead death doth Duke Edward England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear fight firſt follow foul France friends gentle give Grace hand Haſtings hath head hear heart heav'n Henry Highneſs honour hope houſe I'll King Lady land leave live look Lord Madam mean mind moſt mother muſt myſelf never night noble once peace pleaſe poor pray Prince Queen reſt Rich Richard royal ſay SCENE ſee ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome Somerſet ſon ſoul ſpeak ſtand ſuch Suffolk tears tell thank thee theſe thine thing thoſe thou thought tongue true unto Warwick whoſe wife York
Side 119 - 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, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
Side 182 - Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? Was ever woman in this humour won ? I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks...
Side 64 - Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass: and when I am king, as king I will be,— ALL God save your majesty! CADE I thank you, good people: there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their lord.
Side 133 - Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Side 119 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Side 169 - I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me! I am myself alone.