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1st folio accented Alarum Alban's battle of St bear blood blows brother Capell Castle Clarence courage crown death doth Duke of York Earl of Warwick England Enter King Edward Exeter Exeunt fear fight follow France friends gentle give Gloster grace gracious hand hath head hear heart heir Henry's honour house of Lancaster house of York Johnson Keeper King Edward King Henry King Lewis king's Lady Bona Lady Grey Lancaster London Lord Clifford Malone March mean Messenger Middleham Castle mind Montague ne'er Norfolk Northumberland oath old play Oxford pity Plantagenet Prince Queen Margaret remarks rest revenge Rich Richard Richard Plantagenet Rutland Scene Shakespeare Shakspere Sir John slain soldiers Somerset sovereign speak stand stay Steevens sweet syllable tears tell Tewkesbury thee thine thou art thou hast thy father trisyllable unto valiant verse wilt words
Page 71 - 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 199 - When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Page 204 - Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed king : The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord.
Page 72 - 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' treachery ? 0, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth.
Page 153 - The bird that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush...
Page 221 - And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Page 94 - 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 15 - There shall be, in England, seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny : the three-hooped 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 230 - Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart Crow, beautified with our feathers, that with his Tiger's heart wrapped in a Player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you : and being an absolute Johannes fac totum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.
Page 71 - Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea Forced by the tide to combat with the wind ; Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea Forced to retire by fury of the wind : Sometime the flood prevails; and then the wind; Now one the better, then another best ; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror nor conquered : So is the equal poise of this fell war.