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I thank his grace, I know he loves me well; But you, my noble lords, may name the time; And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice. The citizens are mum and speak not a word. Since I have set my friends at peace on earth. Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence. That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls. In God's name, speak: when is the royal day? Were factious for the house of Lancaster; And, Rivers, so were you. Go, go, dispatch. Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep. Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads. I'll draw the form and model of our battle. And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace, Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks. Have done! Below the thunders of the upper deep,Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea,His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleepThe Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights fleeAbout his shadowy sides; above him swellHuge sponges of millennial growth and height;And far away into the sickly light,From many a wondrous grot and secret cellUnnumbered and enormous polypiWinnow with giant arms the slumbering green.There hath he lain for ages, and will lieBattening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;Then once by man and angels to be seen,In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die. wear the garland! Take that, and that: if all this will not do. myself? Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave. Is the king dead? Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! Wherefore do you come? In God's name what are you, and how came you hither? What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory. Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh! The right and fortune of his happy stars; Which God defend that I should wring from him! March on, march on, since we are up in arms; Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter. Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt. No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel: Hath he so long held out with me untired, My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled, To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea. Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs. Had rather have us win than him they follow: For what is he they follow? Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee. Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave. This Edward, whom our manners term the prince. What, think You we are Turks or infidels? You should enjoy, were you this country's king, Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out. Richard the second here was hack'd to death; And, for more slander to thy dismal seat. will he bring his power? Thy garments are not spotted with our blood. Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die! Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon: God give us leisure for these rites of love! Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee. What says your highness to my just demand? To serve me well, you all should do me duty. To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul, Therefore, good mother,--I must can you so--. Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. His royal person,--, Whom God preserve better than you would wish!--. Your right of birth, your empery, your own. He wonders to what end you have assembled. There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here. Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom. Murder thy breath in the middle of a word. Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; Have a tongue to doom my brother's death. ZDNet's technology experts deliver the best tech news and analysis on the latest issues and events in IT for business technology professionals, IT managers and tech-savvy business people. Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st. Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd? Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep. The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour; The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory. Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou go'st. And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused; Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others. Being nothing like the noble duke my father: But touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; The earldom of Hereford and the moveables, Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey. Ay, on my life; and hopes to find forward. Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age; The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd. Hover about her; say, that right for right. Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast. O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it. The loss you have is but a son being king. Shall these enjoy our lands? My dagger, little cousin? Told me, the king, provoked by the queen. But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. If presently you will take horse with him. Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break. Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. A greater gift! Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend. Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep: That thus I have resign'd my charge to you. Until your lordship came to see his death; Which now the loving haste of these our friends. And still, as you are weary of the weight. Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done: The rest, that love me, rise and follow me. We have not yet set down this day of triumph. Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter, Of an one pain, save for a night of groans. And for your grace; and you, my noble lords. Well, call them again. Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. God and our innocency defend and guard us! Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire; If you do fight in safeguard of your wives. The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? To entertain these fair well-spoken days. Meantime, God grants that we have need of you: Your brother is imprison'd by your means, Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions. Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest; But have been waked by his timorous dreams. The early village-cock. Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter. When such bad dealings must be seen in thought. Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall, Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth. 'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I; Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:'. I must be married to my brother's daughter. Are come to have some conference with his grace. Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen. They that stand high have many blasts to shake them; And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. What news, what news, in this our tottering state? I saw good strawberries in your garden there. Meantime, but think how I may do thee good. But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty. Hath she forgot already that brave prince. Exeunt. And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile! And I'll salute your grace of York as mother. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while! New York Times bestselling author Nan Rossiter transports readers to Cape Cod with a warm, compelling story of family, new beginnings, and finding the courage to love honestly and well. If they have done this thing, my gracious lord--, If I thou protector of this damned strumpet--. That excellent grand tyrant of the earth. Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both. Ay, ay. Unless thou couldst put on some other shape. My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby: Was it more precious to me than 'tis now: Think you, but that I know our state secure. To those whose dealings have deserved the place. Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now. These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey, O, thou didst prophesy the time would come, That I should wish for thee to help me curse. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. To slay the innocent? Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm. Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him. the great King of kings. Right well, dear madam. Where are the evidence that do accuse me? And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown. And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. I say again, give out. For it requires the royal debt it lent you. What, from myself? Even in his own garments, and gave himself. Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,--. While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd. I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept: Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd. Are they that I would have thee deal upon: Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. From whence this present day he is deliver'd? All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes. That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die: Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter: Look, how thou dream'st! That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. The loss of such a lord includes all harm. And die, ere men can say, God save the queen! I say, my lord, they have deserved death. Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and Lovel. A black day will it be to somebody. Was not your husband. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it: Who are they that complain unto the king. if my deep prayers cannot appease thee. To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight; And to give notice, that no manner of person. What good is cover'd with the face of heaven. Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege. If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks. Be brief, lest that be process of thy kindness. Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord. That Anne my wife is sick and like to die: To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me. My brother slew no man; his fault was thought, Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised. And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. Get Gigabit Fiber Internet at 1,000 Mbps, plus free calling nationwide. Edward and York; then haply she will weep: Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret, Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,--, A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain, The purple sap from her sweet brother's body. Will not the mayor then and his brethren come? And who is England's king but great York's heir? Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre! Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence. would not they speak? In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends. widowshulk:: FeyRhys + Roommates au ... And that I couldn’t go get her. Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him; I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. If to have done the thing you gave in charge. Long die thy happy days before thy death; And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief. To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? Where is thy power, then, to beat him back? Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes! Because you know, my lord, my mother lives. Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost changed my mind; But O! Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. By heaven, I think there's no man is secure, But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds. That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death. High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return. Now, fair befall you! Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl. After he once fell in with Mistress Shore. The envious slanders of her false accusers; Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds. And look to have it yielded with all willingness. I wish the bastards dead; What sayest thou? Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him. Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. And by that loss your daughter is made queen. I am their mother; who should keep me from them? That stir the king against the duke my brother. Which she shall purchase with still lasting war. What think'st thou, Norfolk? Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand; Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake. They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign: I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace. Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come? Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first. Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen. SCENE IV. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold. 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Would all were well! With many more confederates, are in arms. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds. my niece Plantagenet. Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead. Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement. On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this! And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed; And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar. Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. I long to hear you tell it. For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself. But say, my lord, it were not register'd. When he had done, some followers of mine own. O, let her live. Now in good time, here comes the duke himself. But since you come too late of our intents. I will not rise, unless your highness grant. Go thou to Richard, and good angels guard thee! Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads. Having no more but thought of what thou wert. 'True, noble prince!'. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband. In deep designs and matters of great moment. What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true? For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.'. One raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd; One that made means to come by what he hath. I would to God all strifes were well compounded. First, madam, I entreat true peace of you. To avoid the carping censures of the world. Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke; From which even here I slip my weary neck. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said. For these known evils, but to give me leave. Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men. This is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings; That it may be this day read over in Paul's. Elenco di canzoni, testi e significati. Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women: 'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower: My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she. why, who knows not so? You do not need an account, the only thing you need is a YouTube URL. And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen. Were jocund, and supposed their state was sure. To make William Lord Hastings of our mind. Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower. But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee. Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength. He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. 'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence. And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast. Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; Here, Hastings; I will never more remember. And send them thither: but at hand, at hand. Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow. There let him sink, and be the seas on him! And part in just proportion our small strength. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. ', And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit! Which in your outward actions shows itself. It is not yet near day. The son of Clarence have I pent up close; His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom. With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days! To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad. Bad is the world; and all will come to nought. Against my kindred, brothers, and myself, Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather. Alack. To desperate ventures and assured destruction. Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop. Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. And hate the idle pleasures of these days. The lips of those that breathe them in the air. Into this breathing world, scarce half made up. To make amends, Ill give it to your daughter. To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world, My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days. Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? Get delivery, or takeout, from restaurants near you. Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave. Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. From the dead temples of this bloody wretch. When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow. awake, and win the day! [Aside] Short summers lightly have a forward spring. for the selfsame heaven. By the false faith of him I trusted most; This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul. And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance: The sorrow that I have, by right is yours. lie with our wives? Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY, Exeunt all but HASTINGS, RATCLIFF, and LOVEL, Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, with HASTINGS' head, Enter GLOUCESTER aloft, between two Bishops. Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept. And ample interchange of sweet discourse. With such deep contempt made I him king for this? The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands: Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day; There's some conceit or other likes him well. We would like to show you a description here but the site won’t allow us. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. Which grieves me when I see my shame in him. Can from his mother win the Duke of York, Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate, Of blessed sanctuary! live, and flourish! Witness my son, now in the shade of death; Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath. My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham--. His venom tooth will rankle to the death: Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him. Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you; You have been factious one against the other. I have stay'd for thee. I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid: But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd: God and good angel fight on Richmond's side; And Richard falls in height of all his pride. And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams. Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings. When they should serve their sovereign in the west? And yet to win her, all the world to nothing! England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; The brother blindly shed the brother's blood. To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms: Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head; 'When he,' quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow. A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd. Doth this news hold of good King Edward's death? But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: Happy were England, would this gracious prince. Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. Valiant gentlemen. L'intervento può essere fatta anche in forma anonima in modo da potersi … But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be firm. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears. Would tempt unto a close exploit of death? None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing; Nor none so bad, but it may well be told. Barbara Comyns whose quirky, menace-laced novels, long championed by Graham Greene, are finding their way back to us; a new poem by John Kinsella, 'Villanelle of Star-Picket-Hopping Red-Capped Robin'; and the fantasy urban landscapes portrayed in video games and anime As one that are best acquainted with her humour. dost thou mean the crown? Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm; When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet. And, as it were far off sound thou Lord Hastings. and they are gone. Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles? Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower. That he will not be won to aught against him. She may help you to many fair preferments. Pour all your tears! By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. To save her life, I'll say she is not so. thou dost infect my eyes. Yes, I am: Then fly. In Memoriam, [To Sleep I give my powers away]. Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft! Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous; We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot. My gracious sovereign, on the western coast. That God, the law, my honour and her love. What were I best to say? Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did. And reverend looker on, of two fair queens. Who knows not that the noble duke is dead? What says Lord Stanley? The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them; Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper. Which in his greatest need will shrink from him. Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty. Who told me how the poor soul did forsake. What was your dream? Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me? Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell. Is Clarence dead? Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards. Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter. If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not? Find national chains, San Diego favorites, or new neighborhood restaurants, on Grubhub. What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! Foul shame upon you! Than Edward will for tidings of my death. That can less hide his love or hate than he; For by his face straight shall you know his heart. Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer. How now! What you have been ere now, and what you are; A murderous villain, and so still thou art. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag! White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? Richard of York! Here's a good world the while! Your gracious self to take on you the charge. Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and kind compassion. Even when you please, since you will have it so. Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee; And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. Which stretched to their servants, daughters, wives. O monstrous, monstrous! Good night, good Captain Blunt. but they were none. Thou art a traitor: Off with his head! Plain and not honest is too harsh a style. With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! My lords, at once: the cause why we are met. Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain! Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven? Peace, master marquess, you are malapert: Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion. To torture thee the more, being what thou art. This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' accursed. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive. A horse! By giving smart and creative people the freedom to do great work, we’re committed to creating the best gaming experience on the web. Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind. Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal. Take heed you dally not before your king; Lest he that is the supreme King of kings, Confound your hidden falsehood, and award. Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back: 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; And there they hull, expecting but the aid. We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe. I pity thy complaining. Had you such leisure in the time of death, To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood, Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth. Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord. Who spake of brotherhood? Inter their bodies as becomes their births: And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament. And lay those honours on your high deserts. Your children were vexation to your youth. Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? if two such murderers as yourselves came to you. Upon my life, my lord, I'll under-take it; And so, God give you quiet rest to-night! Which by my presence might have been concluded. My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you. That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing: You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers. How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands. And entertain some score or two of tailors. Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here. Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake! That would reduce these bloody days again. Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish. fight, bold yoemen! Misconstrue us in him and wail his death. . Weigh it but with the grossness of this age. [Aside] Amen; and make me die a good old man! More direful hap betide that hated wretch. That breathed upon this earth a Christian; Made him my book wherein my soul recorded. These babes for Clarence weep and so do I; Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd. To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden; As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls: Conscience is but a word that cowards use. Young Edward lives: think now what I would say. And let the soul forth that adoreth thee. Cannot a plain man live and think no harm. And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord; For on that ground I'll build a holy descant: Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. I know they do; and I have well deserved it. Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed. I would these dewy tears were from the ground. Doth comfort thee in thy sleep: live, and flourish! The old Cape Cod house that Laney Coleman shares with her minister husband Noah and their five boys is usually brimming with cheerful chaos. Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion. Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! With all my heart; and much it joys me too. I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee. Live each of you the subjects to his hate. And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. As being got, your father then in France. Somewhat against our meaning, have prevented: Because, my lord, we would have had you heard, The traitor speak, and timorously confess. I, that kill'd her husband and his father. Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance: These English woes will make me smile in France. Unmanner'd dog! What, shall we toward the Tower? God grant that some, less noble and less loyal. Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast? Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death? Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this? Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this: God keep the prince from all the pack of you! Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower. Yet none of you would once plead for his life. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife. And thereupon he sends you this good news. We must both give and take, my gracious lord. The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire: By God's fair ordinance conjoin together! Truly, the souls of men are full of dread: Before the times of change, still is it so: By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust. And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him; Abase foul stone, made precious by the foil. A man that loves not me, nor none of you.
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