What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Aaron alfo ancient Andronicus Antony and Cleopatra aster Bawd Belarius Boult Cloten copies read Cymbeline daughter dead death doth edition editor emendation Enter Exeunt Exit eyes folio fuch gentleman give gods Goths Gower Guiderius hand hast hath heart heaven Helicanus honour Iach Imogen Johnson Juliet King Henry King Lear lady Lavinia lise lord Lucius Lysimachus Macbeth Malone Marcus Marina Mason means metre mistress night noble Noble Kinsmen o'the old copy Othello passage Pericles Pisanio play poet Posthumus prince Prince of Tyre purpofe quarto queen Rape of Lucrece Roman Rome Romeo and Juliet sace sather SCENE sear sense Shakspeare Shakspeare's signisies sirst speak Steevens suppofe Tale Tamora thee thefe thofe thou art thought Titus Titus Andronicus Twine's tranflation Tyre unto villain Warburton whofe Winter's Tale word
Page 518 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Page 167 - Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
Page 121 - To lie in watch there, and to think on him ? To weep 'twixt clock and clock?
Page 439 - Why, as men do a-land ; the great ones eat up the little ones. I can compare our rich misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale ; 'a plays and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, and at last devours them all at a mouthful. Such whales have I heard on o' the land, who never leave gaping, till they've swallowed the whole parish, church, steeple, bells and all.
Page 484 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...