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arms art thou Aumerle Bard Bardolph Bast Bastard Bishop of Carlisle blood Boling Bolingbroke breath brother Collier's folio cousin crown death doth Duke Earl England Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith Falstaff Farewell father Faulconbridge fear folio misprints France friends Gaunt give Grace grief hand Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart Heaven Holinshed honour horse Host Hotspur Hubert John of Gaunt King John King Richard Lady liege look lord Love's Labour's Lost Majesty Master Mortimer never night noble Northumberland old copies omits passage peace Percy Pist play Pointz pr'ythee Prince Prince John quarto of 1598 Queen Rich royal sack Scene Shakespeare Shal shew Sir John Sir John Falstaff soul speak speech Steevens sweet tell thee thine thou art thou hast tongue villain Westmoreland wilt Winter's Tale word York
Page 467 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Page 291 - And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, And pay the debt I never promised, By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ; And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
Page 166 - O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
Page 370 - 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.
Page 198 - No matter where. Of comfort no man speak : Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. Let's choose executors, and talk of wills...
Page 199 - 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; Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell, king!
Page 65 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me ; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form : Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Page 380 - When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; But now, two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough : — This earth, that bears thee dead, Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. If thou wert sensible of courtesy, I should not make so dear a show of zeal : — But let my favours...
Page 199 - Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence : throw away respect, Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while : I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends : subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a king ? Car.
Page 370 - 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