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Anne Boleyn Bardolph battle bear blood Bolingbroke brother Brutus Buckingham Cade Caesar cardinal Casca Cassius Catesby Catherine Charmian Chronicle Plays Clarence Cleopatra Cominius Coriolanus cousin crown dead death didst dost doth duke duke of York earl Edward England Enobarbus eyes Falstaff father Faulconbridge fear follow France friends Gaunt gentle give Gloster grace grief hand hath hear heart heaven Henry HISTORICAL MEMORANDA hither honour Hotspur Hubert imagine INDICATED BY scenes Jack Cade Junius Justice king king's king’s lady liege look lord majesty Marcius Mark Antony Menenius Messenger never noble Norfolk Northumberland Octavius Pandulph pardon pause peace poet Poins pray prince queen reign Richard Rome scenes supposed Shakspeare Shallow Sicinius Sir John soldiers soul speak sword tell thee there’s thou art thou hast Titinius tongue traitor uncle unto Volumnia Warwick Westmorland wife Wolsey word York young
Page 384 - But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world: now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.
Page 59 - 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 : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Page 385 - Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
Page 19 - 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 213 - 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
Page 382 - Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony : who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth ; as which of you shall not ? With this I depart ; that, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.
Page 360 - Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake; 'tis true, this god did shake; His coward lips did from their...
Page 386 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. I am no orator, as Brutus is, But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man That love my friend, and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech To stir men's blood.
Page 151 - I do despise my dream. Make less thy body, hence, and more thy grace ; Leave gormandizing ; know, the grave doth gape For thee thrice wider than for other men.
Page 303 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.