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Achilles Agamemnon Ajax Anne art thou bear Blood Brother Buck Buckingham Cardinal Cham Clar Clarence Cominius Coriolanus Crown Death Deeds Diomede doth Duke e'er Edward Emperor Exeunt Exit Eyes fair Fair Lords Farewel Father fear Friends gentle give Goths Grace gracious Hand hath hear Heart Heaven Henry hither Honour House of Lancaster i'th K.Edw Lady Lart live look Lord Lord Chamberlain Lord Hastings Love Lucius Madam Martins Mother never Noble o'th Pandarus Patroclus Peace pity poor pray Priam Prince Queen Revenge Rich Richard Rome Saturnine SCENE shew Sorrow Soul speak stand sweet Sword Tarn Tears tell thee Ther there's thine thou art thou hast Titus Tongue Tork Troi Troilus Trumpets unto Vljs Warwick weep Words
Page 1774 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Page 1841 - Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
Page 1783 - Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer And though he were unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely...
Page 1860 - Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.
Page 1777 - I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Page 1861 - That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O ! let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was ; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded...
Page 1777 - tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
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