Henry IV, pt. 1-2

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Harper & brothers, 1884

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Page 25 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — O Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down...
Page 80 - God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea; and other times to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book and sit him down and die.
Page 46 - Took it in snuff: — and still he smil'd and talk'd ; And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He call'd them — untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
Page 50 - When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model, And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection, Which if we find outweighs ability, What do we then but draw anew the model In fewer offices, or at last desist To build at all?
Page 117 - To be again displaced : which to avoid, I cut them off; and had a purpose now To lead out many to the Holy Land, Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, Be it thy course to busy giddy minds With foreign quarrels ; that action, hence borne out, May waste the memory of the former days.
Page 44 - And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So, when this loose behaviour I throw off And pay the debt I never promised, By how much better than my word I am...
Page 25 - Methought I heard a voice cry " Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M.
Page 78 - 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...
Page 78 - And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody ? O, thou dull god ! why liest thou with the vile, In loathsome beds...
Page 24 - I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyoked humour of your idleness. Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world...

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