:27:18
Twas Sir Thomas Gracey.
Bad news, they sayest...
:27:21
...that Hotspur of the North...
- Percy.
:27:25
He that kills me some six or
seven dozen Scots at a breakfast...
:27:28
...and says to his wife. Fie upon
this quiet life! I want work.
:27:31
Couldst anyone more fear'd
be though off?
:27:34
Doth not thy blood thrill?
Art thou not horribly afraid?
:27:37
Not a whit, i'faith, I lack
some of thy instinct.
:27:43
Give me a cup of sack to make
mine eyes look red...
:27:46
...that it may be thought I have
wept, for I must speak in passion.
:28:07
Harry...
:28:11
...I do not only marvel where
thou spendest thy time...
:28:16
...but also how thou art
accompanied.
:28:18
He doth it as like one of these
harlotry players as ever I see!
:28:23
Quiet, hostess!
That thou art my son, I have...
:28:26
...partly thy mother's word,
partly my own opinion...
:28:30
...but chiefly a villanous trick
of thine eye, and a foolish...
:28:34
...hanging of thy nether lip.
:28:37
Why, being son to me...
:28:40
...art thou so pointed at?
:28:43
There is a thing, which thou
hast often heard of...
:28:46
...the pitch, doth defile, so doth
the company thou keepest.
:28:51
And yet, there is a virtuous
man whom I have often noted...
:28:54
...in thy company,
I know not his name.
:28:57
What manner of man...?