THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

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Page 52 - 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 deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Page 152 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility : But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...
Page 144 - A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers...
Page 472 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, • His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Page 472 - Passed over to the end they were created, * Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. * Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely ! * Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade * To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, * Than doth a rich, embroidered canopy * To kings, that fear, their subjects' treachery ? * O, yes it doth ; a thousand fold it doth.
Page 262 - Will I upon thy party wear this rose : And here I prophesy ; — This brawl to-day Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden. Shall send, between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
Page 153 - That those whom you called 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 Cry...
Page 117 - Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts ; Into a thousand parts divide one man, And make imaginary puissance ; Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i...

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