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againſt Anne arms bear better blood brother Buck Buckingham Cade Cardinal changes Clar Clarence Clifford comes Crown dead death doth Duke Earl Edward England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear fight firſt follow France friends gentle give Grace hand Haſtings hath head hear heart heav'n Henry Highneſs honour hope I'll King King's lady land leave live look lord Madam mean mind moſt mother muſt myſelf never night noble once peace pleaſe poor pray Prince Queen Rich Richard royal ſay SCENE ſee ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome Somerſet ſon ſoul ſpeak ſtand ſuch Suffolk ſweet tears tell thank thee theſe thine thing thoſe thou thought tongue true unto Warwick whoſe wife York young
368 psl. - 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.
369 psl. - 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.
202 psl. - I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, all the world to nothing ! Ha!
131 psl. - ... 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, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the...
368 psl. - This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
215 psl. - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that with the very noise, I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell; Such terrible impression made my dream.
191 psl. - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
371 psl. - Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's ; then if thou...