Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Swear by the duty that you owe to God

How some have been deposed; some slain in war;

And prove you true.

And so I am, then crushing penury

And who should say,

Too good to be so, and too bad to live,

And minister correction to thy fault!

Will you permit that I shall stand condemned

And learn to make a body of a limb.

I play the torturer, by small and small,

Say thus the king returns.

For sleeping England long time have I watched

Made glory base and sovereignty a slave,

Seek you to seize and grip into your hands

Wherein thou liest in reputation sick

Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive!

Aumerle, thou weep'st, my tender-hearted cousin!

That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand;

Hath suggested thee

And all unlooked for from your highness' mouth.

Are plucked up root and all by Bolingbroke,

To prove him, in defending of myself,

Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed

And I spit at him,

Can sick men play so nicely with their names?

My father hath a power.

Yea, my good lord.

Against thy majesty.

men living flatter those that die.

Farewell, my blood,

And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance

We three here part that ne'er shall meet again.

Against the envy of less happier lands,

Snakes, in my heart-blood warmed, that sting my heart!

Were then but subjects; being now a subject,

That, by confessing them, the souls of men

Against the Duke of Hereford

If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice,

Four lagging winters and four wanton springs

Cover your heads.

On what condition stands it and wherein?

The first departing of the King for Ireland.

Open the door or I will break it open!

Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me;

God save King Harry,

Thou hast said enough.

I cannot do it;

Why, 'twas my care.

Bearing their own misfortune on the back

Farewell, King!

But since it would not,

Like to a tenement on a pelting farm.

Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!

Each day still better other's happiness

Prepare yourselves.

As a long-parted mother with her child

To please myself I cannot do it.

My lord, we have stayed ten days

Of noble blood in this declining land.

Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet

I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,

Then thus - I have from Port le Blanc, a bay

What is thy sentence then, but speechless death,

Call him a slanderous coward and a villain.

Then, if angels fight, weak men must fall,

Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,

Let them lay their helmets by.

Like silly beggars

As brittle as the glory is the face!

Thou hast a traitor in thy presence there.

And though you think that all, as you have done,

These accusations and grievous crimes

Thou diest, though I the sicker be.

For we will make for Ireland presently.

Greater he shall not be.

Nor I nor any man that but man is

For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead,

And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds,

A twofold marriage, 'twixt my crown and me,

I'll beg one boon,

I live with bread, like you

Will the King come...

Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt.

Shall see us rising in our throne, the East,

Then treasons make me wish myself a beggar,

To kill the new-crowned king.

Be he the fire.

What reverence he did throw away on slaves.

Redeem from broking pawn the blemished crown,

If thy offences were upon record,

Now, by my seat's right royal majesty,

Thou chid'st me well.

Nay, dry your eyes.

And now doth time waste me.

By this time, had the King permitted us,

I had forgot myself.

And all the number

Richly in both, if justice had it right.

We do debase ourselves, cousin, do we not,

The emptier ever dancing in the air,

What, will not this castle yield?

Appointed to direct these fair designs.

With thy fatal hand

Frighting her pale-faced villages with war

Then, as I said,

Comfort, my liege.

Peace shall go sleep with Turks and infidels,

Nor shall not be the last;

Well then, amen.

As we this garden.

The dateless limit of thy dear exile

There I'll pine away.

Were they not mine?

He is come to open the purple testament of bleeding war.

WILLOUGHBY: Barely in titles, not in revenues.

Yea, but not change his spots.