All Shakespeare's Tales: Tales from Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb, and Tales from Shakespeare by Winston Stokes (Google eBook)

Front Cover
Frederick A. Stokes Company, 1911 - 453 pages
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Contents

I
1
II
13
III
25
IV
37
V
50
VI
66
VII
79
VIII
92
XX
260
XXI
279
XXII
289
XXIII
302
XXIV
311
XXV
324
XXVI
335
XXVII
346

IX
106
X
121
XI
132
XII
145
XIII
156
XIV
170
XV
185
XVI
199
XVII
212
XVIII
230
XIX
246
XXVIII
356
XXIX
366
XXX
377
XXXI
384
XXXII
392
XXXIII
400
XXXIV
408
XXXV
421
XXXVI
433
XXXVII
445
Copyright

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 171 - We must not make a scare-crow of the law, ' Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.
Page 5 - Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.
Page 80 - If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest: Cursed be my tribe, If I forgive him!
Page 176 - O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Page 186 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Page 125 - Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep,' the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave* of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, Lady M, What do you mean ? Macb. Still it cried' Sleep no more !' to all the house ' Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.
Page 257 - A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear, No light, no fire : the unfriendly elements Forgot thee utterly ; nor have I time To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze; Where, for a monument upon thy bones, And aye-remaining || lamps, the belching whale, And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, Lying with simple shells...
Page 131 - With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life , which must not yield To one of woman born.
Page 12 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Page 186 - And what is her history!" said Orsino, " A blank, my lord," replied Viola : " she never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm in the bud, prey on her damask cheek. She pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at Grief.

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