The Family Shakspeare: In Ten Volumes; in which Nothing is Added to the Original Text; But Those Words and Expressions are Omitted which Cannot with Propriety be Read Aloud in a Family, Volume 5Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1818 |
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Page 10
... hand , and murder's bloody axe . Ah , Gaunt ! his blood was thine ; and though thou liv'st , * Yet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent In some large measure to thy father's death , In that thou seest thy wretched brother die , Who ...
... hand , and murder's bloody axe . Ah , Gaunt ! his blood was thine ; and though thou liv'st , * Yet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent In some large measure to thy father's death , In that thou seest thy wretched brother die , Who ...
Page 13
... Boling . Lord marshal , let me kiss my sovereign's hand , And bow my knee before his majesty : For Mowbray , and myself , are like two men VOL . V. C ' That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ; Then SCENE III . ] 13 KING RICHARD II .
... Boling . Lord marshal , let me kiss my sovereign's hand , And bow my knee before his majesty : For Mowbray , and myself , are like two men VOL . V. C ' That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ; Then SCENE III . ] 13 KING RICHARD II .
Page 14
... hand , and take his leave . K. Rich . We will descend , and fold him in our arms . Cousin of Hereford , as thy cause is right , So be thy fortune in this royal fight ! Farewell , my blood ; which if to - day thou shed , Lament we may ...
... hand , and take his leave . K. Rich . We will descend , and fold him in our arms . Cousin of Hereford , as thy cause is right , So be thy fortune in this royal fight ! Farewell , my blood ; which if to - day thou shed , Lament we may ...
Page 17
... hand . The language I have learn'd these forty years , My native English , now I must forego , And now my tongue's ... hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony . Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue , Doubly portcullis'd ...
... hand . The language I have learn'd these forty years , My native English , now I must forego , And now my tongue's ... hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony . Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue , Doubly portcullis'd ...
Page 21
... hand , By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite , By bare imagination of a feast ? Or wallow naked in December snow , By thinking on fantastick summer's heat ? O , no ! the apprehension of the good ...
... hand , By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite , By bare imagination of a feast ? Or wallow naked in December snow , By thinking on fantastick summer's heat ? O , no ! the apprehension of the good ...
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Common terms and phrases
arms art thou Aumerle Bard Bardolph Bishop of CARLISLE blood Boling Bolingbroke brother Constable of France cousin crown dæmon dead death dost doth Duch duke earl Eastcheap England English Exeunt Exit eyes fair Falstaff Farewell father fear France French friends Gaunt give Glend Glendower GLOSTER grace grief hand Harfleur Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven honour horse John of Gaunt Kate King RICHARD king's Lady Lancaster liege live look lord majesty never night noble North Northumberland pardon peace Percy Pist Pistol Poins pr'ythee pray prince Prince JOHN prince of Wales Queen Rich SCENE Scroop Shal sir John sir John Falstaff soldiers sorrow soul speak sweet sword tell thee thine thou art thou hast tongue uncle unto villain Westmoreland wilt word York
Popular passages
Page 181 - 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
Page 290 - O, for a muse of fire that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene ! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars ; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, Crouch for employment.
Page 21 - O, who can hold a fire in his hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast ? Or wallow naked in December snow, By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
Page 291 - On this unworthy scaffold, to bring forth So great an object : Can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France, or may we cram Within this wooden O ', the very casques ', That did affright the air at Agincourt?
Page 219 - Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then, and call me gossip Quickly? coming in to •borrow a mess of vinegar; telling us, she had a good dish of prawns; whereby thou didst desire to eat some; whereby I told thee, they were ill for a green wound?
Page 78 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. DUCHESS. Alack, poor Richard! where rode he the whilst? YORK. As in a theatre the eyes of men After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on gentle Richard; no man cried 'God save him!
Page 109 - Hot. 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, trimly...
Page 214 - When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model ; And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection ; Which if we find outweighs ability, What do we then but draw anew the model In fewer offices, or at last desist To build at all...
Page 232 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd : The which observ'd, 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. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Page 114 - By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd 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- fac'd fellowship ! Wor.