Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

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William Paterson, 1883
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Page 46 - No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things — What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be The terrors of the earth.
Page 111 - My very noble and approved good masters, That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her: The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years...
Page 203 - Set you down this ; And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him, thus.
Page 65 - And worse I may be yet : the worst is not So long as we can say,
Page 96 - And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never!
Page 77 - Thou must be patient; we came crying hither. Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, We wawl, and cry : — I will preach to thee ; mark me. Glo. Alack, alack the day! Lear. When we are born, we cry, that we are come To this great stage of fools; This...
Page 192 - I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light.
Page 175 - Is this the noble Moor whom our full senate Call all-in-all sufficient ? — Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake ? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, Could neither graze nor pierce ? logo.
Page 202 - Demand me nothing: What you know, you know: From this time forth I never will speak word.
Page 309 - I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd.

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