Tragedies

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R. L. Friderichs, 1864
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Page 24 - And this man Is now become a god ; and Cassius is A wretched creature, and must bend his body If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake...
Page 73 - And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Page 39 - Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams ; Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film ; Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat...
Page 73 - 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, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him.
Page 40 - a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice. Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts, and wakes ; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again.
Page 82 - You have done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, That they pass by me as the idle wind Which I respect not.
Page 76 - Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way For honour travels in a strait so narrow, W'here one but goes abreast: keep then the path...
Page 82 - Bru. You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well: for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say "better"?
Page 100 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 54 - My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.

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