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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare: With a Life of the Poet ...
No preview available - 2012
Anne Boleyn Bard Bardolph bear blood brother called Capell Cardinal Cath Catharine Cham Collier's second folio correction cousin crown doth Duke Dyce Earl Earl of Fife Earl of March England English Enter Exeunt Exit fair Falstaff father fear France French friends Gent give Grace hand Harfleur Harry hath hear heart Heaven Holinshed honour horse Host Hotspur King Henry King's Lady Lettsom look lord Lord Chamberlain Majesty Master means Mortimer never night noble Northumberland numbers old copies old text reads peace Percy Pist Pistol play Poet Pointz Pope pr'ythee pray Prince Prince of Wales quartos Queen Scene sense Shakespeare Shal Shallow Sir John Sir John Falstaff Sir Thomas Lovell soldiers soul speak sweet sword tell thee there's thing thou art thou hast thought tongue unto Westmoreland Wolsey word
Page 209 - 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 ! Why, rather, Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs. Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber ; Than in the perfumed chambers of the great...
Page 52 - Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding— which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
Page 21 - The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king and officers of sorts; Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their ( emperor...
Page 96 - To-morrow is Saint Crispian ; ' Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say, ' These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
Page 52 - O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Page 245 - Wol. Why, well ; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now ; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Page 210 - With deaf'ning 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.
Page 7 - O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene...
Page 78 - I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree ; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry : 'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.