Characters of Shakespear's Plays

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Dent, 1906 - English literature - 268 pages
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Page 94 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back ; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms...
Page 186 - This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Page 26 - O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The live-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome...
Page 174 - 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 120 - 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 xxi - 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 271 - For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Page 132 - How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? LEAR. You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave; thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears do scald like molten lead.
Page 91 - em. Cal. I must eat my dinner. This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak'st from me. When thou earnest first, Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me ; wouldst give me Water with berries in't ; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night : and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o...
Page 174 - 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 at his pomp...

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