The play of King John, with notes

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1885 - 96 pages

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Page 38 - And, father cardinal, I have heard you say, That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born.
Page 38 - 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 ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Page 41 - Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long ; And so I would be here, but that I doubt My uncle practises more harm to me : He is afraid of me, and I of him. Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ? No, indeed, is't not ; and I would to Heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Page 49 - 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, Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet) Told of a many thousand warlike French, That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent : Another lean, unwash'd artificer Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.
Page 70 - This England never did (nor never shall) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, 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.
Page 42 - I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had ; a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again ; And with my hand at midnight held your head ; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheered up the heavy time ; Saying, What lack you ? and, Where lies your grief?
Page 42 - And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you : But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, And call it cunning : do, an if you will.
Page 42 - When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again : And with my hand at midnight held your head, And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time, Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief?
Page 43 - For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angerly : Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to.
Page 50 - Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal Witness against us to damnation ! How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Makes ill deeds done...

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