The plays and poems of William Shakspeare (Google eBook)

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R.C. and J. Rivington, 1821
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Page 158 - Says suum, mun, ha no nonny, dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa ; let him trot by. [Storm still, continues. Lear. Why, thou were better in thy grave, than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. Is man no more than this...
Page 247 - 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 440 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
Page 129 - Lear. O, reason not the need ; our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous : Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's.
Page 326 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
Page 76 - Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet Heaven ! Keep me in temper : I would not be mad ! Enter Gentleman.
Page 258 - LEAR. No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies...
Page 231 - Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand ! Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind For which thou whipp'st her.
Page 13 - Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me; I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you. Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply...
Page 14 - The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And, as a stranger to my heart and me, Hold thee, from this, for ever.

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