The Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 5Chapman and Hall, 1866 |
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Page 5
... Dead march . The corpse of King HENRY the Fifth , in state , is brought in , attended on by the Dukes of BEDFORD , GLOSTER , and EXETER , the Earl of WARWICK , the Bishop of WINCHESTER , Heralds , & c . Bed . Hung be the heavens with ...
... Dead march . The corpse of King HENRY the Fifth , in state , is brought in , attended on by the Dukes of BEDFORD , GLOSTER , and EXETER , the Earl of WARWICK , the Bishop of WINCHESTER , Heralds , & c . Bed . Hung be the heavens with ...
Page 6
... dead .—- Posterity , await for wretched years , When at their mothers ' moist ( 2 ) eyes babes shall suck ; Our isle be made a marish of salt tears , ( 3 ) And none but women left to wail the dead.- Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I ...
... dead .—- Posterity , await for wretched years , When at their mothers ' moist ( 2 ) eyes babes shall suck ; Our isle be made a marish of salt tears , ( 3 ) And none but women left to wail the dead.- Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I ...
Page 7
... dead Henry's corse Speak softly , or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead , and rise from death . Glo . Is Paris lost ? is Rouen yielded up ? If Henry were recall'd to life again , These news would cause him once ...
... dead Henry's corse Speak softly , or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead , and rise from death . Glo . Is Paris lost ? is Rouen yielded up ? If Henry were recall'd to life again , These news would cause him once ...
Page 15
... dead lord ; Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin : I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat , If thou proceed in this thy insolence . Win . Nay , stand thou back ; I will not budge a foot : This be Damascus , be thou cursed ...
... dead lord ; Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin : I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat , If thou proceed in this thy insolence . Win . Nay , stand thou back ; I will not budge a foot : This be Damascus , be thou cursed ...
Page 19
... dead and gone , Remember to avenge me on the French . " - Plantagenet , I will ; and , Nero - like , ( 47 ) Play on the lute , beholding the towns burn : Wretched shall France be only in my name . ( 48 ) [ Thunder heard ; afterwards an ...
... dead and gone , Remember to avenge me on the French . " - Plantagenet , I will ; and , Nero - like , ( 47 ) Play on the lute , beholding the towns burn : Wretched shall France be only in my name . ( 48 ) [ Thunder heard ; afterwards an ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alarums Anne blood brother Buck Buckingham Cade Capell cardinal Catesby Clar Clarence Clif Clifford Collier's Corrector crown death doth Duch Duke of York Earl Edward Eliz England Exam Exeunt Exit eyes Fair lords farewell father fear fight folio.-The France friends Gent give Gloster grace gracious hand Hanmer hath hear heart heaven Henry's honour house of Lancaster house of York Jack Cade Kath King Henry lady live lord Lord Chamberlain Lord Hastings lord protector madam majesty Malone Margaret Murd ne'er night noble peace Plantagenet pray prince quartos queen Reignier Rich Richard RICHARD PLANTAGENET SCENE second folio Shakespeare soldiers Somerset soul sovereign speak speech Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tell thee thine thou art Tower traitor True Tragedie uncle unto W. N. Lettsom Walker Walker's Crit Warwick words
Popular passages
Page 541 - Farewell ! a long farewell to all my greatness ! • This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope;* to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Page 544 - Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee : Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Page 541 - 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. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes
Page 525 - em, if thou canst : leave working. SONG. Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Page 582 - For I am a man under authority, having soldiers under me, and I say to this man, go, and he goeth ; and to another, come, and he cometh ; and to my servant do this, and he doeth it.
Page 549 - O father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity...
Page 351 - He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I— that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass— I— that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph— I— that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me...
Page 541 - 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. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye : I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes...
Page 374 - I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who cried aloud " What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?
Page 265 - 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 : How many make the hour full complete , How many hours bring about the day , How many days will finish up the year , How many years a mortal man may live. When this is known , then to divide the times : So many hours must I tend my flock ; So many hours must I take my rest ; So many hours must I contemplate;...