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againſt Alex Alexander Apel arms Balthazar bear Belimperia better blood body bring brother cauſe comes court crown death Diog doth doubt earl earth Edward Enter Exeunt eyes face fair fall father fear firſt force fortune Gaveſton give gods grace grow hand hart hate hath head hear heart heaven Hier Hieronimo honour hope Horatio keep king land laws leave light live look lord madam Manes mean mind Mort Mortimer mother muft murder muſt myſelf nature never noble once preſent prince Queen rage realme reſt revenge ruin rule ſay ſee ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſon ſpeak Spencer ſtate ſtay ſtill ſuch ſweet tell thee theſe things thoſe thou thought true truth unto Vice whoſe wrong
Strana 121 - And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, Like sylvan nymphs my pages shall be clad; My men, like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay...
Strana 189 - And there, in mire and puddle have I stood This ten days' space ; and lest that I should sleep, One plays continually upon a drum. They give me bread and water, being a king ; So that, for want of sleep and sustenance, My mind's distemper'd, and my body's numb'd, And whether I have limbs or no, I know not.
Strana 192 - And, seeing there was no place to mount up higher, Why should I grieve at my declining fall? — Farewell, fair queen; weep not for MOrtimer, That scorns the world, and, as a traveller, Goes to discover countries yet unknown.
Strana 257 - I am never better than when I am mad: then methinks I am a brave fellow; then I do wonders : but reason abuseth me, and there's the torment, there's the hell.
Strana 204 - It was, my liege, the prince of Portingale. KING. But what was he that on the other side Held him by th' arm, as partner of the prize?
Strana 140 - Tis not a black coat and a little band, A velvet-caped coat, faced before with serge, And smelling to a nosegay all the day, Or holding of a napkin in your hand, Or saying a long grace at a table's end, Or making low legs to a nobleman, Or looking downward with your eyelids close, And saying, " Truly, an't may please your honour...
Strana 120 - Is as Elysium to a new-come soul: Not that I love the city or the men, But that it harbours him I hold so dear, The king, upon whose bosom let me die, And with the world be still at enmity.
Strana 231 - And to entrap thy life this train is laid. Advise thee therefore, be not credulous: This is devised to endanger thee...
Strana 253 - Was I so mad to bid you light your torches now ? Light me your torches at the mid of noon, Whenas the sun-god rides in all his glory ; Light me your torches then.
Strana 172 - Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer? Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer, That bloody man? — Good father, on thy lap Lay I this head, laden with mickle care. O, might I never ope these eyes again, Never again lift up this drooping head, O, never more lift up this dying heart!