The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare: In Ten Volumes: Collated Verbatim with the Most Authentick Copies, and Revised; with the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators; to which are Added, an Essay on the Chronological Order of His Plays; an Essay Relative to Shakspeare and Jonson; a Dissertation on the Three Parts of King Henry VI; an Historical Account of the English Stage; and Notes; by Edmond Malone, Volume 8 (Google eBook)

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H. Baldwin, 1790
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Page 490 - Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth : I love your majesty According to my bond ; nor more nor less.
Page 233 - Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.
Page 579 - Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription: then let fall Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man.
Page 258 - Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
Page 572 - Stain my man's cheeks !— No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things — What they are yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think I'll weep ; No, I'll not weep : — • I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws, Or ere I'll weep : — O, fool, I shall go mad ! {Exeunt LEAR, GLOSTER, KENT, and Fool.
Page 59 - Demand me nothing ; what you know, you know : From this time forth I never will speak word.
Page 699 - Grew frantick mad ; for in his mind He bore the wounds of woe : Which made him rend his milk-white locks, And tresses from his head. And all with blood bestain his cheeks, With age and honour spread...
Page 645 - 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...
Page 698 - In what I did, let me be made Example to all men. I will return again," quoth he, " Unto my Ragan's court ; She will not use me thus, I hope, But in a kinder sort.

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