The Plays of William Shakespeare: Troilus and Cressida. Cymbeline. King Lear (Google eBook)

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Printed for C. Bathurst, 1773
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Page 386 - give me that patience, patience I need! You fee me here, you gods, a ^ poor old man, As full of grief as age : wretched in both! If it be you that ftir thefe daughters' hearts Againft their father, fool me not fo much To bear it tamely •, * touch me with noble anger! O, let not
Page 466 - thou doft afk me bleffing, I'll kneel down And afk of thee forgivenefs. So we'll live, And pray, and fing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues "Talk of court-news ; and we'll talk with them too, Who lofes and who wins -, who's in, who's out;
Page 446 - 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 ague-proof. Glo.
Page 315 - By all the operations of the orbs, From whom we do exift, and ceafe to be; Here I difclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a ftranger to my heart and me + Hold thee, from this, for ever. The barbarous Scythian, Or he that makes his generation
Page 358 - I will fend far and near, that all the kingdom May have due note of him : and of my land, Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means To make thee capable. Enter Cornwall^ Regan, and Attendants. Corn. How now, my noble friend ? Since I came Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too
Page 426 - plagues Glo. There is a cliff, whofe high and bending head Looks fearfully on the confined deep: Bring me but to the very brim of it, And I'll repair the mifery thou doft bear, With fomething rich about me. From that place I fhall no leading need. Edg. Ay, mafter. Edg. Give me thy arm
Page 259 - even when I wake, it is Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. A headlefs man! The garments of Pofthumus! I know the fhape of his leg; this is his hand, His foot Mercurial, his Martial thigh; The brawns of Hercules: but ' his Jovial face • Murder in heaven? how! 'tis gone ! Pifanio! All
Page 216 - He is at Milford-Haven. Read, and tell me .How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs May plod it in a week, why may not I Glide thither in a day ? Then, true Pifanio, (Who long'ft like me to fee thy lord •, who long'ft—* But in a fainter kind oh, not like me;
Page 409 - Fraterretto calls me; and tells me, Nero is an angler in the lake of darknefs. Pray, Innocent, and beware the foul fiend. Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me whether a madman be a gentleman or a yeoman ? Fool. No; he's a yeoman, that has a gentleman to his fon : for he's a mad yeoman, that
Page 349 - torment to her! Let it ftamp wrinkles in her brow of youth; With * cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks; Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits, To laughter and contempt; that me may feel, How fharper than a ferpent's tooth it is, To have a thanklefs

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