The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author, Svazek 4 |
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Strana 1541
My Heart for anger burns , I cannot brook it . K. Henry . Be patient , gentle Earl of Westmorland . Clif . Patience is for Poltroons , and such is he : He durst not fit there had your Father liv'd . My gracious Lord , here in the ...
My Heart for anger burns , I cannot brook it . K. Henry . Be patient , gentle Earl of Westmorland . Clif . Patience is for Poltroons , and such is he : He durst not fit there had your Father liv'd . My gracious Lord , here in the ...
Strana 1543
Oh Clifford , how thy words revive my Heart . York . Henry of Lancaster , resign thy Crown : What mutter you , or what conspire you , Lords ? War . Do right unto this Princely Duke of York , Or I will fill the House with armed Men ...
Oh Clifford , how thy words revive my Heart . York . Henry of Lancaster , resign thy Crown : What mutter you , or what conspire you , Lords ? War . Do right unto this Princely Duke of York , Or I will fill the House with armed Men ...
Strana 1547
I cannot reft , Until the white Rose that I wear , be dy'd Even in the lukewarm Blood of Henry's Heart . York . Richard , enough : I will be King , or die . Brother , thou shalt to London presently , And wher on Warwick to this ...
I cannot reft , Until the white Rose that I wear , be dy'd Even in the lukewarm Blood of Henry's Heart . York . Richard , enough : I will be King , or die . Brother , thou shalt to London presently , And wher on Warwick to this ...
Strana 1549
Had I thy Brethren here , their Lives and thine Were not revenge fufficient for me : No , if I digg'd up thy Fore - father's Graves , And hung their rotten Coffins up in Chains , It could not fake mine Ire , nor ease my Heart .
Had I thy Brethren here , their Lives and thine Were not revenge fufficient for me : No , if I digg'd up thy Fore - father's Graves , And hung their rotten Coffins up in Chains , It could not fake mine Ire , nor ease my Heart .
Strana 1551
Hold Clifford , do not honour him so much , To prick thy Finger , though to wound his Heart . What Valour were it , when a Cur doth grin , For one to thrust his Hand between his Teeth , When he might spurn him with his foot away ?
Hold Clifford , do not honour him so much , To prick thy Finger , though to wound his Heart . What Valour were it , when a Cur doth grin , For one to thrust his Hand between his Teeth , When he might spurn him with his foot away ?
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