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Page 76 - William Shak-speare: HIS True Chronicle Historic of the life and death of King LEAR and his three Daughters.
Page 67 - THE | Second part of Henrie | the fourth, continuing to his death, | and coronation of Henrie \ the fift. | With the humours of sir lohn Fal- | staffe, and swaggering \ Pistoll. | As it hath been sundrie times publikely \ acted by the right honourable, the Lord | Chamberlaine his seruants. | Written by William Shakespeare. \ LONDON | Printed by VS for Andrew Wise, and | William Aspley. | 1600.
Page 64 - The Tragedy of King Richard the third. Containing, His treacherous Plots against his brother Clarence : the pittiefull murther of his innocent nephewes : his tyrannicall vsurpation : with the whole course of his detested life, and most deserued death.
Page 83 - And to the angel of the church in Philadelphia write; These things saith he that is holy, he that is true, he that hath the key of David, he that openeth, and no man shutteth; and shutteth, and no man openeth...
Page 158 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Page 30 - Spring up, you falconers, the partridges freely, Then let your brave hawks fly. Horses amain, Over ridge, over plain, The dogs have the stag in chase : 'Tis a sport to content a king. So ho ho ! through the skies How the proud bird flies, And sousing
Page 25 - twere with a defeated joy, With one auspicious and one dropping eye, With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole...
Page 51 - And, seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me.
Page 179 - We measure the excellency of other men by some excellency we conceive to be in ourselves. Nash, a poet, poor enough (as poets used to be), seeing an alderman with his gold chain, upon his great horse, by way of scorn said to one of his companions, " Do you see yon fellow, how goodly, how big he looks ? Why, that fellow cannot make a blank verse!