againſt Anne Becauſe blood brother Buck Buckingham Cade Cardinal Catef cauſe Cham Clarence Clif Clifford confcience crown curfe death doth Duke of Norfolk Duke of York Edward Elean England Enter King Exeunt Exit fafe faid falfe father fear felf fent fhall fhame fhould fight flain fleep foldiers fome forrow foul fpeak France friends ftand ftate ftay ftill fuch fweet fword Glo'fter Glou Gloucefter Grace haft Haftings hath heart heav'n Highneſs himſelf honour houſe Humphry Jack Cade King Henry Lady laft Lord Lord Chamberlain Madam mafter Majefty moft muft muſt noble pleaſe pleaſure pray prefent Prince Queen reft Rich Richard Richard Plantagenet ſay SCENE ſelf ſhall Sir Thomas Lovell Somerfet ſpeak Suffolk tell thee thefe theſe thine thoſe thouſand thy felf unto Warwick Whofe wife
Seite 135 - Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Seite 304 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Seite 176 - 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.
Seite 122 - 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; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Seite 170 - 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! I am myself alone.
Seite 122 - 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...
Seite 331 - 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.
Seite 330 - 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.