The Plays of William Shakespeare : Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copy Left by the Late George Steevens: With a Series of Engravings, from Original Designs of Henry Fuseli, and a Selection of Explanatory and Historical Notes, from the Most Eminent Commentators; a History of the Stage, a Life of Shakespeare, &c. by Alexander Chalmers, Volume 8
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Alcib Alcibiades Antium Apem Apemantus Athens Aufidius bear blood Brutus Caesar Caius Capitol Casca Cassius Cces Char Charmian Cleo Cleopatra Cominius Coriolanus Corioli death do't dost doth Egypt enemy Enobarbus Enter Antony Eros Exeunt Exit eyes Farewell fear Flav follow fool fortune friends Fulvia give gods gold hand hate hath hear heart honest honour Iras Johnson Julius Caesar knave lady Lart Lepidus look lord Lucilius Lucius madam Marcius Mark Antony master means Menenius Mess Messala Messenger ne'er never noble o'the Octavius Parthia peace Poet Pompey pr'ythee pray Proculeius queen Re-enter Roman Rome SCENE senators Serv Servant Shakspeare Sold soldier speak stand sword tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast Timon Titinius tribunes unto voices Volces Volscian Volumnia What's word worthy
Page 280 - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear ; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come, when it will come.
Page 267 - tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend.
Page 459 - The crown o' the earth doth melt. — My lord ! — O, withered is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fallen ; ' young boys and girls Are level now with men ; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.
Page 303 - Caesar lov'd him: This was the most unkindest cut of all ; For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors...
Page 312 - I an itching palm ! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Cas. Chastisement! Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember! Did not great Julius bleed for justice
Page 268 - I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council ; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
Page 298 - Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude , that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Page 257 - So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much; He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men; he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit That could be mov'd to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.
Page 476 - To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come: Now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to baser life.
Page 304 - 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: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle...