Illustrations of Shakespeare, and of Ancient Manners: With Dissertations on the Clowns and Fools of Shakespeare; on the Collection of Popular Tales Entitled Gesta Romanorum; and on the English Morris Dance, Volume 2 (Google eBook)

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1807 - Gesta Romanorum
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Page 85 - Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch Of the rang'd empire fall ! Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay : our dungy earth alike Feeds beast as man : the nobleness of life Is to do thus ; when such a mutual pair [Embracing.
Page 200 - And then it started, like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and at his warning. Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine; and of the truth herein This present object made probation.
Page 272 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world...
Page 86 - I'll leave you, lady. Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it: Sir, you and I have lov'd, but there's not it; That you know well : Something it is I would, O, my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten.
Page 82 - When beggars die there are no comets seen ; The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Page 168 - Thou must be patient; we came crying hither. Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, We wawl, and cry: I will preach to thee; mark me. Glo. Alack, alack the day ! Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are come To this great stage of fools; This...
Page 167 - 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 185 - For nought so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give...
Page 250 - ... would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass; and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Page 245 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.

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