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arms Bard Bardolph Bast bear better blood Boling Bolingbroke breath brother comes cousin crown dead death dost doth Duke Earl earth England English Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith Falstaff father fear follow France friends Gaunt give grace grief hand hang Harry hath head hear heart heaven Henry Histories hold Holinshed honour horse Host hour I'll John keep king Lady land leave live look lord majesty Master means meet never night noble North peace Percy play Poins poor pray present Prince Queen rest Rich Richard royal SCENE Shakespeare Shal Sir John soul speak spirit stand sweet tell thee thine thing thou art thought thousand tongue true uncle Vols York young
Page 116 - Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. — This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Page 442 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Page 442 - 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 444 - 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 163 - England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds: That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Page 414 - Windsor, thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me and make me my lady thy wife. Canst thou deny it ? Did not goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then and call me gossip Quickly ? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling us she had a good dish of prawns ; whereby thou didst desire to eat some, whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound...