Remarks, Critical, Conjectural, and Explanatory, Upon the Plays of Shakspeare: Resulting from a Collation of the Early Copies, with that of Johnson and Steevens, Ed. by Isaac Reed, Esq., Together with Some Valuable Extracts from the Mss. of the Late Right Honourable John, Lord Chedworth, Issue 2

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J. Wright, 1805

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Page 123 - Not to a rage : patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once...
Page 141 - King. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green ; and that it us befitted To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow of woe; Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature, That we with wisest sorrow think on him, Together with remembrance of ourselves.
Page 170 - I'll 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...
Page 392 - Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go On the light fantastic toe...
Page 23 - Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony : who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth: As which of you shall not? With this I depart: That, as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.
Page 292 - Out of my grief and my impatience, Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what, He should, or he should not ; for he made me mad, To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman...
Page 383 - O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger, as the flint bears fire ; Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, And straight is cold again.
Page 179 - 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?
Page 382 - A blank, my lord : She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i...
Page 197 - 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 to 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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