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arms art thou Aumerle Bard Bardolph Bast blood Boling Bolingbroke breath brother cousin crown dead death dost doth Duch Duke Earl Eastcheap England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith Falstaff farewell father Faulconbridge fear France friends Gaunt give Glendower grace grief hand Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven Henry Henry IV Holinshed honour horse Host Hotspur Hubert John of Gaunt King John King Richard Lady Lancaster land liege live look lord majesty Master Mortimer Mowbray never night noble Northumberland Pandulph pardon peace Percy Peto Pist play Poins pray Prince Prince of Wales Queen Rich Richard II SCENE Shakespeare Shal shame Sir John Sir John Falstaff Sir John Oldcastle soul speak stand sweet sword tell thee thine thou art thou hast tongue true uncle Vols Westmoreland word York Zounds
Page 114 - Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. — This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Page 442 - Too wide for Neptune's hips ; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors ! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
Page 68 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Page 193 - 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, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable; and humour'd thus Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king!
Page 161 - England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds: That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.