The art of elocution (Google eBook)

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Page 387 - tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them. To die: to sleep; No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to; 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.
Page 343 - 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 351 - Julius bleed for justice' sake ? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for justice ? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honours For so much trash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
Page 310 - He who hath bent him o'er the dead Ere the first day of death is fled, The first dark day of nothingness, The last of danger and distress...
Page 358 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. 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, And bid them speak for me.
Page 393 - The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath; it is twice bless'd; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes...
Page 357 - O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded?
Page 192 - That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct, As water is in water.
Page 388 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Page 352 - You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am arm'd so strong in honesty. That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not.

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