The dramatic works of William Shakespeare: accurately printed from the text of the corrected copy left by the late George Steevens, esq., with glossarial notes and a sketch of the life of Shakespeare, Volume 2 (Google eBook)

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M'Carty & Davis, and H.C. Carey & I. Lea, 1824 - Drama
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Page 258 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Page 408 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Page 372 - Stain my man's cheeks ! No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall I will do such things What they are yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep ; No, I'll not weep : I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I'll weep : O, fool, I shall go mad ! {Exeunt LEAR, GLOSTER, KENT, and Fool.
Page 135 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Page 422 - That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month, Let me not think on't: Frailty, thy name is woman!
Page 242 - That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me : But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Csesar, that...
Page 434 - O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Page 161 - Keeps honour bright : To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast : keep, then, the path : For emulation hath a thousand sons, That one by one pursue : If you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright...
Page 229 - And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday ? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Page 396 - Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid : Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, Time out of mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...

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