All of Shakespeare’s plays.
My comfort is that heaven will take our souls
And plague injustice with the pains of hell.
Alas, poor duke! the task he undertakes
Is numbering sands and drinking oceans dry:
Where one on his side fights, thousands will fly.
Farewell at once, for once, for all, and ever.
Well, I will for refuge straight to Bristol castle:
The Earl of Wiltshire is already there.
Besides, our nearness to the king in love
Is near the hate of those love not the king.
Here comes the Duke of York.
We have: whereupon the Earl of Worcester
Hath broke his staff, resign'd his stewardship,
And all the household servants fled with him
Ah, madam, 'tis too true: and that is worse,
The Lord Northumberland, his son young Henry Percy,
The Lords of Ross, Beaumond, and Willoughby,
With all their powerful friends, are fled to him.
That he, our hope, might have retired his power,
And driven into despair an enemy's hope,
Who strongly hath set footing in this land:
The banish'd Bolingbroke repeals himself,
And with uplifted arms is safe arrived
God save your majesty! and well met, gentlemen:
I hope the king is not yet shipp'd for Ireland.
Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts.
Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland,
Expedient manage must be made, my liege,
Ere further leisure yield them further means
For their advantage and your highness' loss.
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