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arms bear blood body Buck Buckingham Cade Capell cardinal Clifford Collier commons crown dead death Dick doth duchess Duke Duke Humphrey Dyce Eleanor enemy England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes false father fear fight follow France give given Glou Gloucester gone grace hand hath head heart heaven hence Henry highness honour hope Hume Iden III.ii John keep King leave live London look lord madam Maine majesty master means mind murder never night noble Peter Pope pray present protector proud Queen reads realm Richard Rowe Saint Salisbury Scene shame sight Simp soldiers Somerset soul sovereign speak stand Suffolk sword tell thank thee thine things thou thought thousand Tori traitor treason true unto Vaughan Warwick wife York
Seite 93 - But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep. CADE Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny: the three-hooped pot; shall have ten hoops and I will make it felony to drink small beer...
Seite 106 - Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm, in erecting a grammar school : and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used ; and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a papermill. It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb and such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear.
Seite 93 - The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment ? that parchment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man ? Some say, the bee stings ; but I say, 'tis the bee's wax, for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since.
Seite 83 - Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be ! — Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. — He dies, and makes no sign : O God, forgive him ! War.
Seite 82 - I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright, Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul. Give me some drink, and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.