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Achilles againſt Ajax Anne Arms bear better Blood bring Brother Buck Clarence comes Crown Death doth Duke Edward Enter Exeunt Exit Eyes fair fall Father fear fight firſt follow Friends gentle give Gods Grace Hand haſt hath Head hear Heart Heaven Henry himſelf hold Honour hope I'll keep King Lady leave live look Lord Love mean Morrow moſt Mother muſt Name never Night Noble once Peace pleaſe poor Power pray Prince Queen Rich Richard Rome ſay SCENE ſee ſelf ſhall ſhe ſhould Soldiers ſome Sons Soul ſpeak ſtand ſuch ſweet Sword Tears tell thank thee Ther theſe thing thoſe thou thought Titus Tongue Troi true unto Warwick whoſe World York
1748 psl. - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 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.
1815 psl. - Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
1757 psl. - Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer And though he were unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely...
1832 psl. - Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.
1751 psl. - I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
1833 psl. - That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O ! let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was ; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded...
1751 psl. - tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.