Shakspeare's Genius Justified: Being Restorations and Illustrations of Seven Hundred Passages in Shakspeare's Plays: which Have Afforded Abundant Scope for Critical Animadversion; and Hitherto Held at Defiance the Penetration of All Shakspeare's Commentators

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J. Johnson, 1819 - 470 pages
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Page 280 - O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers; Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood ! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy (Which like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips, To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue...
Page 151 - Cannot be ill, cannot be good ; if ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am Thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature...
Page 330 - 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 332 - Here, take this purse, thou whom the heavens' plagues Have humbled to all strokes : that I am wretched Makes thee the happier : — heavens, deal so still ! Let the superfluous and lust-dieted man, That slaves your ordinance, that will not see Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly ; So distribution should undo excess, And each man have enough.
Page 124 - I will be master of what is mine own. She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house, My household stuff, my field, my barn, My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything...
Page 96 - O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Page 30 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Page 65 - Some men there are love not a gaping pig; Some, that are mad if they behold a cat; And others, when the bagpipe sings i...
Page 340 - In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets...
Page 282 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man...

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