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admirable affections Beaumont Beaumont and Fletcher beauty Ben Jonson blood breath character comedy Coriolanus critic D'Ol death delight dost doth dramatic Duke effeminacy Endymion etermity Eumenides eyes faith Falstaff fancy fear feeling fire fools fortune friends genius give grace hand hast hath heart heaven honour human Iago imagination Jeremy Taylor Jonson king kiss Lear learning live look lord Macbeth MALvolio manner mind moral Muse nature never night noble Othello passages passion person pity play pleasure poet poetical poetry pride prince quincunxes racter Rhod rich Richard III scene seems Sejanus sense sentiment Shak Shakspeare Shakspeare's Sir Rod Sir Thomas Brown sleep soul speak spirit striking style sweet tell thee things thou art thought tion Titus Andronicus tragedy true truth unto virtue Witches words writers youth
Page 142 - 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 71 - 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 71 - 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 102 - 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 82 - 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 xviii - 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 110 - 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 208 - 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...