Plays of Edwin Booth, Volume 1

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Penn Publishing Company, 1899
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Page 47 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; •> I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil, that men do, lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; \ So let it be with Caesar.
Page 47 - Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, — For Brutus is an honourable man ; So are they all, all honourable men, — Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man.
Page 26 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 'With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here. But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We'd jump the life to come...
Page 67 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Page 9 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men "Walk under his huge legs and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Page 9 - Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with 'em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.
Page 62 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Page 57 - 11 leave you till night : you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord ! [Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you.— Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That from her working, all his visage wanned; Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? And all...
Page 47 - Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me : But Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill ; Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept. Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man.
Page 112 - No, faith, not a jot ; but to follow him thither with modesty enough and likelihood to lead it : as thus : Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we make loam ; and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel...

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