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againſt Anne arms bear better blood body bring 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 fhall fhould fight foldiers follow fome foul France French friends fuch fword gentle give Glofter grace hand hath head hear heart heaven Henry honour hope I'll keep king lady leave live look lord madam mean mind moſt muſt myſelf never night noble once peace pleaſe poor pray prince Queen Rich Richard royal SCENE ſhall ſpeak Suffolk Talbot tears tell thank thee theſe thine thing thou thought tongue true unto Warwick wife York
Page 85 - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered...
Page 656 - 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 373 - 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 301 - Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass: and when I am king, as king I will be,— ALL God save your majesty! CADE I thank you, good people: there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their lord.
Page 660 - Pr'ythee, lead me in : There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny : 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Page 659 - A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Page 660 - Thou fall'st a blessed martyr ! Serve the king ; And, — pr'ythee, lead me in : There, take an inventory of all I have...