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The Works of William Shakspeare: Life, Glossary, &c., Reprinted from the ...
Visualització completa - 1868
The Works of William Shakespeare: Life, Glossary, &c : Reprinted ..., Volum 7
Visualització completa - 1875
The Works of William Shakespeare: Life, Glossary, &c : Reprinted ..., Volum 5
Visualització completa - 1875
answer arms Attendants bear better blood bring brother comes daughter dead dear death dost doth Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith father fear follow fool Ford fortune France gentle give gone grace hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry hold honour hope Host hour I'll John keep king lady leave Leon live look lord madam marry master mean meet mind mistress never night noble once peace play poor pray present prince queen reason Rich SCENE serve soul speak Speed spirit stand stay sure sweet tell thank thee thine thing thou art thought thousand tongue true turn unto wife woman York young
Pàgina 222 - With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws, and modern instances, And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side, His youthful hose well...
Pàgina 472 - That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget you! Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war! — And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your spirit: and, upon this charge,...
Pàgina 444 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Pàgina 389 - All murder'd; for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Pàgina 6 - All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
Pàgina 182 - Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination all compact. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; That is, the madman : the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt...
Pàgina 81 - To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling ! 'tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Pàgina 17 - Some heavenly music, (which even now I do) To work mine end upon their senses, that This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.
Pàgina 388 - Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.