Historical plays: King Henry VI, pt. I-III. King Richard III. King Henry VIII
J. and P. Knapton, 1745
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againſt Anne arms bear better blood brother Buck Buckingham Cade Cardinal Clarence Clifford comes crown dead death doth Duke Earl Edward enemies England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear felf fhall fhould fight follow fome foul fpeak France friends ftand fuch fword gentle give Glou Grace haft Haftings hand hath head hear heart heav'n Henry honour hope I'll keep King Lady leave live look Lord Madam mean mind mother muft muſt never noble once peace poor pray Prince Pucel Queen Rich Richard royal SCENE Suffolk Talbot tears tell thank thee thefe theſe thine thing thou thought tongue true unto Warwick wife York young
Page 466 - 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 436 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Page 225 - O 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...
Page 225 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Page 281 - I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me! I am myself alone.
Page 240 - Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Page 468 - Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of...