The Beauties of Shakspeare Regularly Selected from Each Play. With a General Index, Digesting Them Under Proper HeadsT. Bedlington, 1827 - 345 pages |
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Page 20
... breath be rude . Heigh , ho ! sing , heigh , ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning , most loving mere folly : Then , heigh , ho , the holly ! This life is most jolly . Freeze , freeze , thou bitter sky , That dost not ...
... breath be rude . Heigh , ho ! sing , heigh , ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning , most loving mere folly : Then , heigh , ho , the holly ! This life is most jolly . Freeze , freeze , thou bitter sky , That dost not ...
Page 27
... breath , and breath a vapour is : Then thou , fair sun , which on my earth dost shine , Exhal'st this vapour vow ; in thee it is : * Hooded , veiled . † Petticoats . The officers of the spiritual courts who serve cita If broken then ...
... breath , and breath a vapour is : Then thou , fair sun , which on my earth dost shine , Exhal'st this vapour vow ; in thee it is : * Hooded , veiled . † Petticoats . The officers of the spiritual courts who serve cita If broken then ...
Page 28
... breath . Air , quoth he , thy cheeks may blow ; Air , would I might triumph so ! But , alack , my hand is sworn , Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : Vow , alack , for youth unmeet ; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet . Do not call it sin ...
... breath . Air , quoth he , thy cheeks may blow ; Air , would I might triumph so ! But , alack , my hand is sworn , Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn : Vow , alack , for youth unmeet ; Youth so apt to pluck a sweet . Do not call it sin ...
Page 36
... breath thou art , ( Servile to all the skiey influences , ) That dost this habitation , where thou keep'st , Hourly afflict : merely , thou art death's fool ; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun , And yet run'st toward him ...
... breath thou art , ( Servile to all the skiey influences , ) That dost this habitation , where thou keep'st , Hourly afflict : merely , thou art death's fool ; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun , And yet run'st toward him ...
Page 43
... breath , and whispering humbleness , Say this , - Fair sir , you spit on me on Wednesday last ; You spurn'd me such a day : another time You call'd me - dog ; and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much monies . ACT II . GRAVITY ...
... breath , and whispering humbleness , Say this , - Fair sir , you spit on me on Wednesday last ; You spurn'd me such a day : another time You call'd me - dog ; and for these courtesies I'll lend you thus much monies . ACT II . GRAVITY ...
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Common terms and phrases
Achilles Agamemnon Ajax Antony Aposiopesis art thou banishment bear beauty blood bosom breath brows Brutus Cassius Cesar cheek Coriolanus crown curse Cymbeline dear death deed described Desdemona didst dost thou doth dream earth eyes fair fair ladies father fear fool fortune friends gentle Ghost give grief hand hang hath head hear heart heaven honour hour Iago iron tongue king kiss Lady live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd maid melancholy midnight bell mother murder nature ne'er never night noble o'er Pandarus passion Patroclus pity poor princes proud Queen revenge Richard III shame sleep soliloquy sorrow soul speak speech spirit stamp'd sweet Sycorax tears thee thine thing thou art thou hast thoughts tongue true twice-told tale unto vex'd villain virtue weep wife wind woman words young youth
Popular passages
Page 61 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Page 103 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Page 130 - He's here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
Page 70 - Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Page 17 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit ; Tu-who...
Page 127 - I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too, Who loses, and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; And take...
Page 130 - 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 132 - s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.
Page 60 - twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory...
Page 102 - Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will, My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow?