1:27:21
Worid, worid, O worid!
1:27:24
But that thy strange mutations
make us hate thee,
1:27:27
life would not yield to age.
1:27:42
Tom's a-cold.
1:27:46
Is that the naked fellow?
1:27:48
Ay, my lord.
Come hither.
1:27:52
Know'st thou the way to Dover?
Ay, master.
1:28:18
As flies to wanton boys
are we to th' gods.
1:28:22
They kill us for their sport.
1:28:38
Spare speech.
Decline your head;
1:28:41
this kiss,
if it durst speak,
1:28:43
would stretch
thy spirits
up into the air.
1:28:51
Yours in the ranks
of death.
1:28:53
My most dear
Gloucester.
1:28:59
O, the difference
of man and man!