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Anne arms aster bear besore blood brother Buck Buckingham Cade Cardinal Catesby Cham Clar Clarence Clifford Clis crown dead death Dorset doth Duch Duke of York Earl Edward Elean England Enter King Ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid farewel father foldiers fome forrow foul France friends gentle give Glo'ster Gloucester Grace hand hath head hear heart heav'n honour house of Lancaster house of York Jack Cade King Henry King's Lady leave lise live look Lord Chamberlain Lord Hastings Madam Majesty master Mayor murther never noble Norfolk peace pity poor pray Prince Queen reafon Rich Richard Richard Plantagenet Richmond royal SCENE sear shalt Sir Thomas Lovell Somerset speak Stanley Suffolk sweet sword tears tell thee thine thou art thou hast thoufand tongue Tower traitor unto Warwick
Página 119 - 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, 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.
Página 182 - Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? Was ever woman in this humour won ? I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks...
Página 64 - Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass: and when I am king, as king I will be,— ALL God save your majesty! CADE I thank you, good people: there shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their lord.
Página 133 - Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Página 119 - 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.
Página 169 - 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.