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againſt anſwer arms art thou bafe Bard Bardolph becauſe blood Boling Bolingbroke coufin Crown Dauphin death doft doth Duke Duke of Burgundy Earl England Enter Exeunt Exit faid Falstaff father fave fear felf felves fhall fhame fhew fhould fight fince flain foldiers fome foul fpeak fpirit France French ftand fuch fweet fword Gaunt give Glou Grace Harfleur Harry hath hear heart heav'n himſelf Hoft honour horfe Juft King Henry Liege lord lord of Westmorland mafter Majefty moft morrow moſt Mowb muft muſt never night noble Northumberland Oxford Editor peace Percy Pift pleaſe Poins Pope pow'r prefent Prince Prince of Wales Pucel reafon Reignier Rich Richard Plantagenet SCENE ſelf Shal ſhall Sir John ſpeak Talbot tell thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou art thouſand tongue uncle unto Weft whofe word worfe York
Seite 117 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities : But out upon this half-faced fellowship ! Wor.
Seite 187 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it 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 392 - By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if men my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires; But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Seite 52 - 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...
Seite 411 - Like to the senators of the antique Rome, With the plebeians swarming at their heels, Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in: As, by a lower but loving likelihood, Were now the general of our gracious empress, As in good time he may, from Ireland coming, Bringing rebellion broached on his sword, How many would the peaceful city quit, To welcome him!
Seite 281 - He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity...
Seite 249 - 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 187 - 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 252 - 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.