The plays of William Shakspeare: In fifteen volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators. To which are added, notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The fourth edition. Revised and augmented (with a glossarial index) by the editor of Dodsley's collection of old plays (Google eBook)

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printed [by H. Baldwin] for T. Longman, B. Law and Son, C. Dilly, J. Robson, J. Johnson [and 27 others in London], 1793
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Page 37 - The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Page 59 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.
Page 128 - But these are all lies : men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
Page 320 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
Page 68 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon...
Page 554 - Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee And for thy maintenance : commits his body To painful labour, both by sea and land...
Page 48 - Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I : when I was at home, I was in a better place : but travellers must be content.

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