The Works of Shakespeare, Volume 8Macmillan and Company, limited, 1899 |
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Page 61
... sweet words , Low - crooked court'sies and base spaniel - fawning . Thy brother by decree is banished : If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him , I spurn thee like a cur out of my way . Know , Cæsar doth not wrong , nor without ...
... sweet words , Low - crooked court'sies and base spaniel - fawning . Thy brother by decree is banished : If thou dost bend and pray and fawn for him , I spurn thee like a cur out of my way . Know , Cæsar doth not wrong , nor without ...
Page 78
... sweet friends , let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny . They that have done this deed are honourable : What private griefs they have , alas , I know not , That made them do it : they are wise and honourable , And will ...
... sweet friends , let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny . They that have done this deed are honourable : What private griefs they have , alas , I know not , That made them do it : they are wise and honourable , And will ...
Page 79
... sweet Cæsar's wounds , poor poor dumb mouths , And bid them speak for me : but were I Brutus , And Brutus Antony , there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits , and put a tongue In every wound of Cæsar , that should move The ...
... sweet Cæsar's wounds , poor poor dumb mouths , And bid them speak for me : but were I Brutus , And Brutus Antony , there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits , and put a tongue In every wound of Cæsar , that should move The ...
Page 142
... sweet and commendable in your nature , Hamlet , To give these mourning duties to your father : But , you must know , your father lost a father ; That father lost , lost his , and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term To ...
... sweet and commendable in your nature , Hamlet , To give these mourning duties to your father : But , you must know , your father lost a father ; That father lost , lost his , and the survivor bound In filial obligation for some term To ...
Page 149
... sweet , not lasting , The perfume and suppliance of a minute ; No more . Oph . Laer . No more but so ? Think it no more : For nature crescent does not grow alone In thews and bulk , but , as this temple waxes , The inward service of the ...
... sweet , not lasting , The perfume and suppliance of a minute ; No more . Oph . Laer . No more but so ? Think it no more : For nature crescent does not grow alone In thews and bulk , but , as this temple waxes , The inward service of the ...
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Common terms and phrases
bear blood Brabantio Brutus Cæs Casca Cassio CHIG Cinna Cyprus dead dear death Desdemona devil dost thou doth Duke Emil Emilia Enter Exeunt Exit eyes F. W. H. MYERS Farewell father fear follow Fortinbras Fourth Cit gentlemen Ghost give grief Guil Guildenstern Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven honest honour Horatio Iago Julius Cæsar King Laer Laertes look lord Lucilius Lucius Mark Antony marry Messala Michael Cassio MICHI Moor murder never night noble Octavius Ophelia Othello play Plutarch Polonius pray Prithee Queen Re-enter revenge Roderigo Roman Rome Rosencrantz Rosencrantz and Guildenstern RSITY SCENE Shakespeare soul speak speech spirit stand sweet sword tell thee There's thing thou art thou hast thought Titinius to-night UNIV SITY UNIV UNIV villain wife word
Popular passages
Page 279 - Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me ! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.
Page 96 - There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune ; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.
Page 215 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Page 77 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent ; That day he overcame the Nervii. — Look, in this place ran Cassius...
Page 26 - Why should that name be sounded more than yours? Write them together, yours is as fair a name ; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well ; Weigh them, it is as heavy ; conjure with 'em, " Brutus " will start a spirit as soon as
Page 74 - Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest (For Brutus is an honourable man, So are they all, all honourable men) Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me; But Brutus says he was ambitious, And Brutus is an honourable man.
Page 79 - And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Page 204 - 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 75 - But yesterday the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence. 0 masters, if I were disposed to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honourable men : I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honourable men.
Page 78 - Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what ! weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.