The plays of William Shakespeare, ed. by T. Keightley, Del 38, Volym 3
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answer arms Bard Bardolph Bast bear better blood Boling Bolingbroke breath brother comes cousin crown dead death dost doth Duke earth England English Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith Falstaff father fear fellow field fight France French friends Gaunt gentle give Grace grief hand Harry hath head hear heart Heaven HENRY hold honour horse Host hour I'll John keep King Lady land leave liege live look lord Majesty Master means meet never night noble North once peace Percy Pist Poins poor pray Prince Rich Richard SCENE Shal shame shew Sir John soldier soul speak spirit stand sweet sword tell thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought thousand tongue true uncle unto York young
Sida 81 - 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.
Sida 52 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Sida 394 - A made a finer end, and went away, an it had been any christom child ; 'a parted even just between twelve and one, e'en at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers...
Sida 259 - When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound; But now two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough.
Sida 50 - For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angerly : Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to.
Sida 130 - 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, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Sida 312 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased ; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasure'd. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Sida 435 - This story shall the good man teach his son ; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered ; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers...
Sida 183 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly...
Sida 401 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility : But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...