The roses; or King Henry the sixth; an historical tragedy. Represented at Reading school, compiled principally from Shakespeare [by R. Valpy].

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54 psl. - All murder'd : for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp...
54 psl. - Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
54 psl. - For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings : How some have been depos'd; some slain in war...
29 psl. - Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile ; And cry Content to that which grieves my heart ; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
49 psl. - What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
22 psl. - O 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...
57 psl. - And so I was, which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me!
29 psl. - I smile ; And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart ; And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ; I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk ; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy : I can add colours to the cameleon ; Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages, And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school.
28 psl. - Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb : And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub...

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