Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

For Mowbray and myself are like two men
If thou wouldst,
'Ere it be disburdened with a liberal tongue.
Let me see the writing.
If it be so, out with it boldly, man.
Why, foolish boy, the King is left behind,
Good uncle, help to order several powers
Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth,
Keeps Death his court.
I hardly yet have learned
My figured goblets for a dish of wood,
Sweet York, be patient.
When, Harry, when? Obedience bids I should not bid again.
Steward, deputy-elect,
No man cried God save him!
For our affairs in hand.
The other down, unseen and full of water
I mean to see.
Some poisoned by their wives; some sleeping killed.
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed.
Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
This prison where I live unto the world
And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!
Marry, would the word farewell have lengthened hours
My mother and my nurse that bears me yet!
Stay! The King hath thrown his warder down.
Have we more sons? Or are we like to have?
Have torn their souls by turning them from us,
Mine ear is open and my heart prepared.
First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness.
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers.
Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.
So high above his limits swells the rage of Bolingbroke,
Whilst we were wandering with the Antipodes -
Provided that my banishment repealed
First - heaven be the record to my speech!
My gracious lord.
Be confident to speak, Northumberland.
Aye.
That all the treasons for these 18 years
In your lord's scale is nothing but himself,
Come...let's go
such is the breath of kings.
That do poison need,
O, how it yearned my heart when I beheld
Give me my boots, I say.
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,
No hand of blood and bone
One day too late, I fear me, noble lord,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow.
Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle.
Wherewith I reigned?
Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
I fear me, never.
You promised, when you parted with the King,
Am I not king?
And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
Of much less value is my company than your good words.
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
My gracious uncle...
Ten thousand bloody crowns
Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin?
That...blood should sprinkle me
His charters and his customary rights.
Why have those banished and forbidden legs
We are amazed.
Disorder, horror, fear and mutiny
March on.
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Within my mouth you have engaoled my tongue,
The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes,
To melt myself away in water-drops!
And interchangeably set down their hand,
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
Cousin of Hereford,
My crown I am; but still my griefs are mine.
And water cannot wash away your sin.
He did.
Till time lend friends and friends their helpful swords.
To please the King I did,
To find out right with wrong - it may not be.
We did observe his courtship of the common people.
And yet salt water blinds them not so much
Wherefore was I born?
And if my word be sterling yet in England,
I am a subject, And I challenge law.
Fear, not love, begets his penitence:
Let's talk of graves
I would attach you all and make you stoop
Our countrymen are gone and fled,
Both to defend my loyalty and truth
How long a time lies in one little word!
Now, afore God
On some known ground of treachery in him?
For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressed
'Like a glistering Phaeton, wanting the manage of unruly jades.
Stay thy revengeful hand; thou hast no cause to fear.
Such crimson tempest should bedrench the fresh green lap
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
Uncle, farewell.
So much for that. Now,
Perhaps he hath 'ere this, but stays upon
Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title,
Though you are old enough to be my heir.