The Family Shakspeare ... in which Nothing is Added to the Original Text: But Those Words and Expressions are Omitted which Cannot with Propriety be Read Aloud in a Family ... (Google eBook)

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, Brown, 1825
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Page 51 - For within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps death his court: and there the antick sits. Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; Allowing him a breath, a little scene To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh, which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Page 295 - O, FOR a muse of fire that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene ! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars ; and at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, Crouch for employment.
Page 25 - This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...
Page 210 - Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me : I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
Page 363 - Let him depart; his passport shall be made, And crowns for convoy put into his purse: We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us. This day is call'd the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say, 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian:' Then will he strip his sleeve...
Page 234 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king...
Page 236 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd: The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life; which in their seeds, And weak beginnings, lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Page 51 - And that small model of the barren earth, Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings : How some have been depos'd, some slain in war; Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ; Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd ; All murder'd : For within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps death his court : and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning...
Page 330 - That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot! Follow your spirit, and upon this charge Cry, "God...
Page 115 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly...

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