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Anne arms bear better blood brother Buck Buckingham Cade Cardinal Clar Clarence Clif Clifford comes Crown dead death doth Duke Earl Edward enemies England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear fhall fhould fight follow fome foul France friends ftand fuch gentle give Grace haft Haftings hand hath head hear heart heav'n Henry hold honour hope I'll King King's lady land leave live look lord Madam mean mind moft mother muft myſelf never night noble once peace pleaſe poor pray Prince Queen Rich Richard royal SCENE ſhall ſpeak Suffolk tears tell thank thee thefe theſe thine thing thou thought tongue Tower true unto Warwick wife York
136 psl. - 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...
376 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.
136 psl. - 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, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
376 psl. - Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
377 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.
136 psl. - 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...
136 psl. - ... Would I were dead, if God's good will were so. For what is in this world but grief and woe ? 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...
224 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.
199 psl. - That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity; And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasures of these days.