Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Of woeful ages long ago betid;

Should run thy head from thy unreverent shoulders!

Good sometime Queen,

Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,

When their thundering shock at meeting

Be his own carver, and cut out his way

Part us, Northumberland.

Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,

demand of yonder knights in arms

Let them hence away

He had none of me.

That ever fell upon this cursed earth!

Or as a moat defensive to a house

Yet what I say is true.

They well deserve to have,

DOOR CREAKS OPEN

I know my uncle, York, hath power enough to serve our turn.

Till twice five summers have enriched our fields

Would he not stumble?

The Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster,

He spake it twice,

The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.

The weeds which his broad-spreading leaves did shelter,

I'll not be by the while.

No matter where.

Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate,

Whilst all tongues cried God save thee, Bolingbroke!

Shall keep a league till death.

HORSES NEIGH AND SNORT

My Lord Northumberland,

The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth,

So be thy fortune in this royal fight.

Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him

Their peace is made with heads, and not with hands.

We three are but thyself, and, speaking so,

Pray God we may make haste and come too late!

Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder.

Is right welcome hither,

To bear the tidings of calamity.

So far be mine, my most redoubted lord,

And in my loyal bosom lies his power.

That power that made you king

By heaven, I'll hate him everlastingly

There shouldst thou find one heinous article,

The revenue whereof shall furnish us

But who comes here?

What must the king do now?

Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,

Great Duke of Lancaster,

And I from heaven banished as from hence!

Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.

be though on thy way.

Shall point on me and gild my banishment.

Herein all breathless lies

And shall I have?

Yet know, my master, God omnipotent,

Enforce attention like deep harmony.

Madam, I'll sing.

'Tis thought the King is dead.

Their fortunes both are weighed

Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me:

Go to Flint Castle.

In Brittany, received intelligence

O call back yesterday, bid Time return,

Will you go along with us?

Not wentz thou cum’st

From Richard's night

My name be blotted from the book of life,

Teach thy necessity to reason thus -

The other to enjoy by rage and war.

I know she is come to pray for your foul sin.

Forget, forgive, conclude and be agreed;

And sends allegiance and true faith of heart to his most royal person,

There lies the substance

My lord, you must straight to the Tower.

Proportionable to the enemy is all unpossible.

For 'twere no charity

The castle royally is manned, my lord, against thy entrance.

So many greedy looks of young and old

And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,

And yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm.

My lord, dispatch.

Methinks King Richard and myself should meet with no less terror

May tear a passage through the flinty ribs

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti.

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground.

Was this face the face

Make me, that nothing have,

Nay, let us hear thy thoughts as thou dost ours.

O let no noble eye profane a tear

It is too little,

And therefore, personally I lay my claim

Do wound the bark,

Then am I kinged again and by and by

I have been studying how I may compare