Shakespeare Closing Lines

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Can you name the Shakespeare play from the closing line?

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Closing LinePlay
And since this business so fair is done, // Let us not leave till all our own be won.
And then to Rome:–come, Dolabella, see // High order in this great solemnity.
And we shall shock them: nought shall make us rue, // If England to itself do rest but true.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be, // Let your indulgence set me free.
But that's all one, our play is done, // And we'll strive to please you every day.
For never was a story of more woe, // Than of Juliet and her Romeo.
Give me your hands, if we be friends // And Robin shall restore amends.
He has business at his house; for all shall stay: // This little one shall make it holiday.*
I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make court'sy, bid me farewell.
(…) I heard a bird so sing, // Whose music, to my thinking, pleas'd the king // Come, will you hence?*
Make way breed peace; make peace stint war; make each // Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. // Let our drums strike.
March sadly after: grace my mournings here, // In weeping after this untimely bier.
Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king; // But I will rule both her, the king, and realm.
Myself will straight abroad; and to the state // This heavy act with heavy heart relate.
Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again: // The she may long live here, God say amen!
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts; // Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
Perform'd in this wide gap of ime, since irst // We were dissever'd; hastily lead away.
Set on there;–Never was a war did cease, // Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a peace.
So on your patience evermore attending, // New joy wait on you! Here our play hath ending.
Closing LinePlay
So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show // What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know.
So, call the field to rest: and let's away, // To part the glories of this happy day.
So, thanks, to all at once, and to each one, // Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone.
Sound, drums and trumpet!–farewell, sour annoy! // For here, I hope, begins our everlasting joy.
Sound, drums and trumpet:–and to London all; // And more such days as these to us befall!
Take up the bodies: such a sight as this // Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss. // Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours; // One feast, one house, one mutual happiness.
The oldest hat borne most: we, that are young, // Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way.
Then, afterwards, to order well the state, // That lie event may ne'er it ruinate.
Think not on him till to-morrow: Ill devise thee brave punishments fot him. – Strike up, pipers!
Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases; // And at that time bequeath you my diseases.
'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so.
To Master Brook, you yet shall hold your word; // For he, to-night, shall lie with mistress Ford.
We came into the world like brother and brother; // And now let's go hand in hand, not one before another.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing // So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.
Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake, // In your fair minds let this acceptance take.
Which to this hour bewail this injury, // Yet he shall have a noble memory. // Assist.
Your old loves to us: we, and all our might // Rest at your service. Gentlemen, good night.

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Created Apr 4, 2010ReportNominate
Tags:Nintendo, play, Shakespeare, closing