The Works of Shakespear in Eight Volumes: The Genuine Text (collated with All the Former Editions, and Then Corrected and Emended) is Here Settled: Being Restored from the Blunders of the First Editors, and the Interpolations of the Two Last: with a Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory
J. and P. Knapton, S. Birt, T. Longman and T. Shewell, H. Lintott, C. Hitch, J. Brindley, J. and R. Tonso and S. Droper, R. Wellington, E. New, and B. Dod., 1747
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arms art thou Bard Bardolph blood Boling Bolingbroke brother captain Colevile cousin Crown Dauphin dead death dost doth Dowglas Duke Duke of Burgundy Earl England English Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Falstaff farewel father fear fight foul France French friends Gaunt give Glou Grace grief hand Harfleur Harry hath hear heart heav'n honour horse Host King Henry Lady Liege live look lord lord of Westmorland Majesty master morrow Mortimer Mowb ne'er never night noble Northumberland Orleans Oxford Editor peace Percy Pist Pistol Poins Pope pow'r pray Prince Prince of Wales Pucel Queen Reignier Rich Richard Plantagenet SCENE Shal shew Sir John Sir John Falstaff soldiers Somerset speak sweet sword Talbot tell thee thine thou art thou hast tongue uncle unto villain Vulg Westmorland wilt word York
Seite 314 - I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy prayers ; How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester!
Seite 255 - O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness...
Seite 193 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'Tis insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of • it. Honour is a mere scutcheon : and so ends my catechism.
Seite 193 - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Seite 256 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the shipboy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Seite 258 - 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 intreasured.
Seite 109 - 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...
Seite 26 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...