My staff? here, noble Henry, is my staff: As willingly do I the same resign As e'er thy father Henry made it mine; And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it As others would ambitiously receive it. Farewell, good king: when I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne!
My staff? Here, noble Henry, is my staff: I give it up as willingly as your father Henry gave it to me; And just as willingly I leave it at your feet As others would greedily take it. Farewell, good king: when I am dead and gone, May honorable peace be with your reign!
Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester · Act 2, Scene 3
See how the blood is settled in his face. Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy; Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black and full of blood, His eye-balls further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretched with struggling; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life and was by strength subdued: Look, on the sheets his hair you see, is sticking; His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. It cannot be but he was murder'd here; The least of all these signs were probable.
Look at how the blood has settled on his face. I've often seen a spirit that left its body too soon, Pale, weak, and lifeless, Its blood all flowing down to the struggling heart; Who, in the battle it fights with death, Takes the blood to fight the enemy; But once it cools in the heart, it never returns To make the face blush with life again. But look, his face is black and full of blood, His eyes pushed out further than when he was alive, Staring horribly, like a man who's been strangled; His hair standing up, his nostrils wide from his struggle; His hands spread out, as if he fought for life and was overwhelmed: See, his hair is stuck to the sheets; His well-groomed beard now rough and tangled, Like the summer's corn knocked down by a storm. It can't be anything but murder here; Even the smallest of these signs proves it.
Earl of Warwick · Act 3, Scene 2
Look on my George; I am a gentleman: Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.
Look at my George; I am a gentleman: Whatever you ask, I'll pay.
William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk · Act 4, Scene 1
A day will come when York shall claim his own;
A day will come when York shall claim his own;
Richard, Duke of York · Act 2, Scene 2