Speeches (Lines) for Bushy
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# | Act, Scene, Line (Click to see in context) |
Speech text |
1 |
Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,
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2 |
At Ely House. |
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3 |
Madam, your majesty is too much sad:
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4 |
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows,
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5 |
'Tis nothing but conceit, my gracious lady. |
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6 |
Why have you not proclaim'd Northumberland
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7 |
Despair not, madam. |
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8 |
The wind sits fair for news to go to Ireland,
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9 |
Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd. |
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10 |
Thither will I with you; for little office
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11 |
That's as York thrives to beat back Bolingbroke. |
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12 |
Well, we may meet again. |
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13 |
More welcome is the stroke of death to me
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