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KING JOHN.

Lord of thy presence, and no land beside.

Act i. Sc. I.

And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter;
For new-made honour doth forget men's names.
Act i. Sc. I.

For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation.

Acti. Sc. I.

Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth.

For courage mounteth with occasion.

Act i. Sc. I.

Act ii. Sc. I.

I would that I were low laid in my grave;
I am not worth this coil that 's made for me.

Act ii. Sc. I.

St. George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er

since

Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door.

Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,

Act ii. Sc. I.

As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!

Act ii. Sc. 2.1

Here I and sorrows sit;

Here is my throne; bid kings come bow to it.

Act iii. Sc. 1.2

1 Sc. 2, Singer, Staunton, Knight. Sc. 1, White, Dyce, Cambridge.

2 Act ii. Sc. 2, White.

[King John continued.

Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward;

Thou little valiant, great in villany!

Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by

To teach thee safety!

Act iii. Sc. I.

Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.
Act iii. Sc. I.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.
Act iii. Sc. 4.

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

When Fortune means to men most good,

She looks upon them with a threatening eye.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

And he that stands upon a slippery place
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

How now, foolish rheum!

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Act iv. Sc. I.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light

King John continued.]

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
Act iv. Sc. 2.

I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news.
Act iv. Sc. 2.

Another lean, unwash'd artificer.

Act iv. Sc. 2.

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds

Makes ill deeds done!

Act iv. Sc. 2.

Mocking the air with colours idly spread.

Act v. Sc. I.

This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.

Act v. Sc. 7.

Come the three corners of the world in arms,

And we shall shock them. Nought shall make

us rue,

If England to itself do rest but true.

Act v. Sc. 7.

KING RICHARD II.

All places that the eye of heaven visits
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
Act i. Sc. 3.

O, who can hold a fire in his hand
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastic Summer's heat.
O, no! the apprehension of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
Act i. Sc. 3.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise;
This fortress, built by Nature for herself,
Against infection and the hand of war ;
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this

[blocks in formation]

King Richard II. continued.]

Not all the water in the rough rude sea
Can wash the balm from an anointed king.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

He is come to ope

The purple testament of bleeding war.

Act iii. Sc. 3.

And my large kingdom for a little grave,
A little little grave, an obscure grave.

Gave

Act iii. Sc. 3.

His body to that pleasant country's earth, And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ, Under whose colours he had fought so long.

A mockery king of snow.

As in a theatre, the eyes of men,

Act iv. Sc. I.

Act iv. Sc. I.

After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious. Act v. Sc. 2.

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