The Plays & Poems of Shakespeare: According to the Improved Text of Edmund Malone, Including the Latest Revisions, with a Life, Glossarial Notes, an Index ... (Google eBook)

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H:O. Bohn, 1857
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Page 75 - I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord ! [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you : Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his visage wann'd ; Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ?...
Page 31 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all, to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Page 104 - But O, what form of prayer Can serve my turn ? ' Forgive me my foul murder'? That cannot be, since I am still possess'd Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition and my queen. . May one be pardon'd and retain the offence? In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law...
Page 63 - O God, I could be bounded in a nut-shell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
Page 77 - I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil; and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, As he is very potent with such spirits, Abuses me to damn me.
Page 83 - O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown ! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword ; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down...
Page 125 - How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Page 85 - O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings...
Page 126 - Makes mouths at the invisible event, Exposing what is mortal and unsure To all that fortune, death, and danger dare, Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw, When honour's at the stake.
Page 111 - O Hamlet! speak no more! Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul ; And there I see such black and grained spots, As will not leave their tinct.

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