King Henry VI, part 1. King Henry VI, part 2. King Henry VI, part 3 (Google eBook)

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Charles Whittingham, 1826
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Page 309 - 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.
Page 19 - Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.
Page 220 - Be brave then ; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be, in England, seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny : the threehooped pot shall have ten hoops ; and I will make it felony to drink small beer: all the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass.
Page 310 - 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.
Page 331 - Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. "Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart ; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Page 385 - And so I was, which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. 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!
Page 310 - 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. 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

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