All of Shakespeare’s plays.
And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.
Aside To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master,
And cried 'all hail!' when as he meant all harm.
Aside I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave;
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:
Work thou the way,--and thou shalt execute.
What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
O, may such purple tears be alway shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!
If any spark of life ...
I'll hear no more: die, prophet in thy speech:
For this amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
Think'st thou I am an executioner?
Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
That taught his son the office of a fowl!
An yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer.
Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?
The Tower, the Tower.
Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;
I'll hence to London on a serious matter:
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
Why should she live, to fill the world with words?
Marry, and shall.
Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony.
For God's sake, take away this captive scold.
By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word.
That you might still have worn the petticoat,
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
It is: and lo, where youthful Edward comes!
The queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford fled to her:
If she have time to breathe be well assured
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
Welcome, good Clarence; this is brotherlike.
Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Have sold their lives unto the house of York;
And thou shalt be the third if this sword hold.
Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason
Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
The gates are open, let us enter too.
Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel down:
Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools.
Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast,
But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,
The king was slily finger'd from the deck!
You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace,
And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower.
Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give:
I'll do thee service for so good a gift.
I thought, at least, he would have said the king;
Or did he make the jest against his will?
See how the surly Warwick mans the wall!
Away betimes, before his forces join,
And take the great-grown traitor unawares:
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
3 KING HENRY VI
And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.
Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand:
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points?
Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery,
Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived.
A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded!
Aside But when the fox hath once got in his nose,
He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
The gates made fast! Brother, I like not this;
For many men that stumble at the threshold
Are well foretold that danger lurks within.
Come then, away; let's ha' no more ado.
But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talk.
Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my meaning.
Brother, the time and case requireth haste:
Your horse stands ready at the park-corner.
Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley,
Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither,
Into this chiefest thicket of the park.
Thus stands the case: you know our king, my brother,
Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands
He hath good usage and great liberty ...
Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.
Aside Not I:
My thoughts aim at a further matter; I
Stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown.
Aside I hear, yet say not much, but think the more.
And yet methinks your grace hath not done well,
To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales
Unto the brother of your loving bride;
She better would have fitted me or Clarence:
But in your bride you bury brotherhood.
And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge,
Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.
No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd
Whom God hath join'd together; ay, and 'twere pity
To sunder them that yoke so well together.
And shall have your will, because our king:
Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
And his well-chosen bride.
Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you
Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey?
Hath not our brother made a worthy choice?
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