The Stratford Shakspere: Macbeth. Coriolanus. Julius Caesar. Antony & Cleopatra. Cymbeline. Troilus & CressidaC:Griffin & Company, 1867 |
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Page 6
... Mark , king of Scotland , mark : No sooner justice had , with valour arm'd , Compell'd these skipping kernes to trust their heels , But the Norweyan lord , surveying vantage , With furbish'd arms , and new supplies of men , Began a ...
... Mark , king of Scotland , mark : No sooner justice had , with valour arm'd , Compell'd these skipping kernes to trust their heels , But the Norweyan lord , surveying vantage , With furbish'd arms , and new supplies of men , Began a ...
Page 19
... mark'd with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber , and us'd their very daggers , That they have done ' t ? LADY M. Who dares receive it other , As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death ? MACB . I am settled , and ...
... mark'd with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber , and us'd their very daggers , That they have done ' t ? LADY M. Who dares receive it other , As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death ? MACB . I am settled , and ...
Page 32
... Mark Antony's was by Cæsar . He chid the sisters , When first they put the name of king upon me , And bade them speak to him ; then , prophet - like , They hail'd him father to a line of kings : Upon my head they plac'd a fruitless ...
... Mark Antony's was by Cæsar . He chid the sisters , When first they put the name of king upon me , And bade them speak to him ; then , prophet - like , They hail'd him father to a line of kings : Upon my head they plac'd a fruitless ...
Page 57
... mark'd ; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstacy ; the dead man's knell Is there scarce ask'd , for who ; and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps , Dying , or ere they sicken . MACD . Too nice , and yet too true ...
... mark'd ; where violent sorrow seems A modern ecstacy ; the dead man's knell Is there scarce ask'd , for who ; and good men's lives Expire before the flowers in their caps , Dying , or ere they sicken . MACD . Too nice , and yet too true ...
Page 61
... mark that ? LADY M. The thane of Fife had a wife ; Where is she now ? -What , will these hands ne'er be clean ? —No more o ' that , my lord , no more o ' that : you mar all with this starting . DOCT . Go to , go to : you have known what ...
... mark that ? LADY M. The thane of Fife had a wife ; Where is she now ? -What , will these hands ne'er be clean ? —No more o ' that , my lord , no more o ' that : you mar all with this starting . DOCT . Go to , go to : you have known what ...
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Common terms and phrases
Achilles AGAM Agamemnon AJAX Appears Aufidius Banquo bear blood Brutus Cæsar call'd CASCA Cassius CHAR Charmian CLEO Cleopatra Cominius Coriolanus CRES Cressida Cymbeline dead death deed Diomed doth ENOBARBUS Enter EROS Exeunt Exit eyes Farewell fear fight fool friends give gods GUIDERIUS hand hath hear heart heaven HECT Hector Henry Holinshed honour IACH Imogen Julius Cæsar king lady Lepidus look lord Lucius MACB Macbeth MACD madam Marcius Mark Antony MESS night noble Octavia Pandarus Patroclus peace Pisanio poet Pompey Posthumus pray prince Prithee queen Re-enter Roman Rome SCENE Shakspere Shakspere's sleep soldier speak stand sweet sword tell thee THER there's Thersites thine thing thou art thou hast Titinius Troilus Troy ULYSS unto Volces What's WITCH word worthy ΜΕΝ
Popular passages
Page 232 - But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar ; I found it in his closet, 'tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament — Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read — And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds...
Page 442 - 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 21 - Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Page 15 - The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!
Page 35 - Duncan is in his grave ; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well ; Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison. Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.
Page 243 - Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : If that thou beest a Roman, take it forth.
Page 63 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Page 14 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition ; but without The illness should attend it : what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win : thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries " Thus thou must do, if thou have it ; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
Page 233 - Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart; And in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue (Which all the while ran blood) great Caesar fell.
Page 501 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.