The Plays of William Shakespeare in Ten Volumes: With Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators, Volume 7 (Google eBook)

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C. Bathurst, 1778
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Page 273 - This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Page 41 - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling waked, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell ; Such terrible impression made my dream.
Page 277 - 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 155 - Give me another horse! bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream. O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What! do I fear myself?
Page 288 - And though he were unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely. Ever witness for him Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
Page 275 - Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now , To be thy lord and master: Seek the king; That sun, I pray, may never set!
Page 231 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Page 6 - Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity; And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover. To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

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