The Plays of William Shakespeare, Volume 3 (Google eBook)

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T. Bensley, 1803
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Page 58 - Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake : Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Page 71 - I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, And own no other function : each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
Page 19 - Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off: And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.
Page 20 - Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both : They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me : I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Page 15 - Come, come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse; That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect, and it...
Page 8 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
Page 24 - Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep ; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings ; and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.
Page 70 - O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength a malady Most incident to maids...
Page 84 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Page 88 - I have almost forgot the taste of fears : The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair * Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir As life were in't : I have supp'd full with horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me.

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