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admiration affections Beaumont and Fletcher beauty Ben Jonson blood breath Caliban character comedy Coriolanus critic death delight Desdemona dost doth dramatic Duke effeminacy Endymion equal Eumenides eyes Falstaff fancy fear feeling fire fool fortune friends genius give grace hand hast hath hear heart heaven Henry honour human Iago imagination interest Jeremy Taylor Jonson king kiss lady Lear learning live look lord Macbeth Malvolio manner Midsummer Night's Dream mind moral nature never night noble Othello passages passion person pity play pleasure poet poetical poetry pride prince quincunxes racter rich Richard Richard III scene seems Sejanus sense sentiment Shak Shakspeare Shakspeare's sleep soul speak speech spirit stage striking style sweet tell tender thee things thou art thought tion Titus Andronicus tragedy true truth unto wife words writers youth
Page 144 - Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Page 73 - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
Page 73 - 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.
Page 104 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Page 84 - Treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
Page xx - 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...
Page 112 - Lear. Pray, do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less ; And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Page 210 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods...