The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors. Macbeth. King JohnC. Whittingham, 1826 |
From inside the book
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Page 16
... thine ? 31It still came home , ' a nautical term , meaning , ' the anchor would not take hold . ' 32 The more you requested him to stay , the more urgent he re- presented that business to be which summoned him away . 33 Not Polixenes ...
... thine ? 31It still came home , ' a nautical term , meaning , ' the anchor would not take hold . ' 32 The more you requested him to stay , the more urgent he re- presented that business to be which summoned him away . 33 Not Polixenes ...
Page 20
... thine eyes at once see good and evil , Inclining to them both : Were my wife's liver Infected as her life , she would not live The running of one glass 42 . Cam . Who does infect her ? Leon . Why he , that wears her like his medal 43 ...
... thine eyes at once see good and evil , Inclining to them both : Were my wife's liver Infected as her life , she would not live The running of one glass 42 . Cam . Who does infect her ? Leon . Why he , that wears her like his medal 43 ...
Page 22
... thine own . Cam . my heart ; I'll do't , my lord . Leon . I will seem friendly , as thou hast advis'd me . [ Exit . Cam . O miserable lady ! -But , for me , What case stand I in ? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes : and my ground ...
... thine own . Cam . my heart ; I'll do't , my lord . Leon . I will seem friendly , as thou hast advis'd me . [ Exit . Cam . O miserable lady ! -But , for me , What case stand I in ? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes : and my ground ...
Page 43
... thine : If thou refuse , And wilt encounter with my wrath , say so ; The bastard brains with these my proper hands Shall I dash out . Go , take it to the fire ; For thou sett'st on thy wife . Ant . I did not , sir : These lords , my ...
... thine : If thou refuse , And wilt encounter with my wrath , say so ; The bastard brains with these my proper hands Shall I dash out . Go , take it to the fire ; For thou sett'st on thy wife . Ant . I did not , sir : These lords , my ...
Page 53
... thine oracle ! — I'll reconcile me to Polixenes ; 15 This is almost literally from Greene's novel . 16 i . e . of the event of the queen's trial . We still say , he sped well or ill . But yet hear this ; mistake me not ; No F 2 SC . II ...
... thine oracle ! — I'll reconcile me to Polixenes ; 15 This is almost literally from Greene's novel . 16 i . e . of the event of the queen's trial . We still say , he sped well or ill . But yet hear this ; mistake me not ; No F 2 SC . II ...
Common terms and phrases
Antigonus Antipholus Arthur Autolycus Banquo Bast Bastard bear Ben Jonson blood Bohemia breath Camillo CLEOMENES Comedy of Errors Const death deed dost doth Dromio Duke Duncan England Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes father Faulconbridge fear Fleance France give grief hand hath hear heart heaven Hermione Holinshed honour Hubert husband Julius Cæsar King Henry King Henry IV King John Lady LADY MACBETH Leon Leontes look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff Malone master means mistress murder night o'er old copy reads old play passage Paul Paulina peace Polixenes pray prince queen Rosse SCENE Shakspeare Shakspeare's Shep Sicilia sleep soul speak Steevens swear sweet tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought tongue villain wife Winter's Tale Witch word
Popular passages
Page 326 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Page 240 - The handle toward my hand? 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 marshal'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still.
Page 434 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Page 396 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Page 73 - Say there be ; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art ~\\ hich does mend nature, — change it rather ; but The art itself is nature.
Page 228 - The effect, and it. Come to .my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring 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 ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor ! Enter MACBETH.
Page 75 - What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Page 271 - Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time, Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear: the times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end: but now, they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools: This is more strange Than such a murder is.
Page 251 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time ; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality : All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
Page 234 - d yourself ? hath it slept since ? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and...