An Introduction to the Study of Shakespeare (Google eBook)

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D.C. Heath & Company, 1893 - 377 pages
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Page 149 - For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, But to the earth some special good doth give ; Nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse : Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime 's by action dignified.
Page 87 - Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true ; true, I have married her ; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace ; For since these arms of mine had seven years...
Page 103 - Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why, He thinks he was not made to die; And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Page 73 - Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; He was perfumed like a milliner ; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and...
Page 235 - Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : if ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair. And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature...
Page 80 - 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! A little month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body Like Niobe, all tears - why she, even she (O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason...
Page 81 - Would have mourn'd longer, married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets, It is not nor it cannot come to good; But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!
Page 209 - tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die: to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil...
Page 106 - How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave. Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Page 86 - Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys, and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe : You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own.

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