King Henry VIII. Coriolanus
Printed for, and under the direction of, John Bell, 1788
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appears Aufidius bear better blood bring called cardinal cause Cham comes Cominius common consul copy Coriolanus court death duke enemies Enter Exeunt eyes fair fall fear friends give given gods grace hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry highness hold Holinshed honour hope JOHNSON keep king king's lady leave live look lord madam MALONE Marcius master mean Menenius mother nature never noble once passage peace person play poor pray present queen Roman Rome SCENE senate sense Serv Shakspere shew speak stand STEEVENS sword tell thank thee thing Thomas thou thought tongue tribunes true truth unto voices WARBURTON wife wish Wolsey worthy
Pàgina 92 - Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues : be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's : then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell ! Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Pàgina 91 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's...
Pàgina 91 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble...
Pàgina 88 - This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye : I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes...
Pàgina 51 - Anne. So much the more Must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief And wear a golden sorrow.
Pàgina 89 - Why, well ; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now ; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Pàgina 14 - O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day ; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away ! Re-enter PANTHINO.
Pàgina 91 - O, my lord, Must I then leave you ? Must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master ? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord ; The king shall have my service, but my prayers For ever and for ever shall be yours.
Pàgina 96 - You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty! Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair! Have the power still To banish your defenders; till, at length, Your...
Pàgina 89 - Long in his highness' favour, and do justice For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones, When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans