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ancient answer appears believe Bertram better Boswell bring called comes common Cordelia Corn Count daughter death duke Edgar edition editors Enter expression eyes fair fall father fear folio fool fortune France give Gloster grace hand hast hath head hear heart Henry hold honour Italy Johnson Kent kind King knave lady LEAR leave less live look lord madam MALONE Mason master means nature never night noble observed old copy omitted Parolles passage perhaps person play poor pray present quartos reason scene seems sense serve Shakspeare signifies speak speech stand STEEVENS suppose tears tell thee thing thou thought true WARBURTON wife word young
Page 128 - If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger ! O, let not women's weapons, water-drops, Stain my man's cheeks ! — No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things, — What they are, yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think...
Page 245 - And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks I should know you and know this man; Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant What place this is, and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
Page 324 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
Page 74 - Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet Heaven ! Keep me in temper : I would not be mad ! — Enter Gentleman.
Page 256 - LEAR. No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies...
Page 229 - Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand ! Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind For which thou whipp'st her.
Page 13 - Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me; I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you. Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply...
Page 146 - When the mind's free The body's delicate; the tempest in my mind Doth from my senses take all feeling else Save what beats there.