The Works: Of Shakespear. In which the Beauties Observed by Pope, Warburton, and Dodd, are Pointed Out. Together with the Author's Life; a Glossary; Copious Indexes; and a List of the Various Readings. In Eight Volumes

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A. Donaldson, and sold at his shop, London; and at Edinburgh, 1771
 

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Page 132 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Page 119 - ... this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Page 130 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Page 271 - I'll smell it on the tree. — • [Kissing her. O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword ! — One more, one more. — Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And love thee after : — One more, and this the last : So sweet was ne'er so fatal.
Page 182 - Hamlet wrong'd Laertes ? Never Hamlet : If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, And, when he's not himself, does wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. Who does it then ? His madness ; if 't be so, Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd ; His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy.
Page 175 - Dost thou come here to whine ? To outface me with leaping in her grave ? Be buried quick with her, and so will I : And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw Millions of acres on us, till our ground, Singeing his pate against the burning zone, Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, I'll rant as well as thou.
Page 55 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Page 21 - Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims
Page 129 - No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
Page 155 - I'll be with you straight. Go a little before. [Exeunt all except HAMLET How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.

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