The Plays and Poems of William Shakespeare: Printed from the Text of J. Payne Collier, with the Life and Portrait of the Poet, Volume 5 (Google eBook)

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Tauchnitz, 1843
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Page 322 - I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths...
Page 155 - Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun...
Page 316 - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his ambition. Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended.
Page 365 - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off...
Page 375 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time , for, from this instant, There 's nothing serious in mortality : All is but toys : renown and grace is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
Page 329 - You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well: for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say "better"?
Page 291 - I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The genius, and the mortal instruments, Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
Page 365 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 'With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here. But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come...
Page 279 - He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake : 'tis true, this god did shake : His coward lips did from their colour fly ; And that same eye whose bend doth awe the world Did lose his lustre : I did hear him groan : Ay, and that tongue of his that bade the Romans Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, , Alas ! it cried, " Give me some drink, Titinius,
Page 384 - But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams, That shake us nightly : better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave ; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well ; Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further ! Lady M.

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