The history of King Lear, a tragedy, as it is now acted at the King's theatres, revived with alterations [from Shakespeare's play] by N. Tate (Google eBook)

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Page 56 - And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks I should know you, and know this man; Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant What place this is; and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; For (as I am a man) I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
Page 16 - Why this is not Lear : does Lear walk thus ? speak thus ? Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, or his discernings are lethargied. — Sleeping or waking ? — Ha ! sure 'tis not so. — Who is it that can tell me who I am...
Page 52 - With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women all above : but to the girdle do the gods inherit, beneath is all the fiends' ; there's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption.
Page 28 - You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both! If it be you that stir these daughters...
Page 49 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 17 - O Lear, Lear, Lear! Beat at this gate that let thy folly in, And thy dear judgment out.
Page 51 - When the rain came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chatter; when the thunder would not peace at my bidding ; there I found 'em, there I fmelt 'em out. Go to, they are not men o' their words ; they told me I was every thing : 'tis a lie, I am not agueproof.
Page 12 - Esteem, she's your's; take her, or leave her. Burg. Pardon me. Royal Lear, I but demand The Dow'r yourself propos'd, and here I take Cordelia by the Hand, Dutchess of Burgundy, Lear.
Page 12 - And press'd between our sentence and our pow'r, (Which nor our nature, nor our place, can bear,) We banish thee for ever from our sight And kingdom : If, when three days are expired, Thy hated trunk be found in our dominions, That moment is thy death. — Away.
Page 69 - Lear. Ingrateful as they were, my heart feels yet A pang of nature for their wretched fall. But, Edgar, I defer thy joys too long: Thou serv'dst distress'd Cordelia ; take her crown'd, Th...

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