The Handy-volume Shakspeare, Zväzok 6Bradbury, Agnew, and Company, 1866 |
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ARCHBISHOP OF YORK arms art thou Aumerle banish'd Bard Bardolph BISHOP OF CARLISLE blood Blunt Boling Bolingbroke breath Bushy Colevile cousin crown Davy dead death Doll doth Douglas Duch duke duke of Hereford earl Eastcheap Exeunt Exit eyes Falstaff Farewell father fear friends Gaunt give Glend Glendower grace grief hand Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven Hereford hither honour horse Host Hotspur Jack John of Gaunt KING HENRY KING RICHARD Lady Lancaster liege live look lord majesty master Shallow Mortimer Mowb Mowbray never night noble North Northumberland pardon peace Percy Pist Poins pr'ythee pray PRINCE JOHN prince of Wales Queen Re-enter Rich rogue SCENE Shal sir John sir John Falstaff sorrow soul speak sweet sword tell thee thine thou art thou hast tongue traitor uncle unto Westmoreland wilt word York
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Strana 264 - O sleep, 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 124 - 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...
Strana 63 - God's name, let it go : I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My...
Strana 97 - I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world: And for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.
Strana 57 - 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.
Strana 87 - As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious ; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
Strana 197 - Honour ? Air. A trim reckoning! — Who hath it? He that died o' 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 56 - 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 197 - 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 265 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst 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.