The Comedies, Histories, Tragedies, and Poems of William Shakspere, Volume 1C. Knight, 1851 |
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Page 52
... death . That murther'd me : I would forget it fain ; But , O ! it presses to my memory , Like damned guilty deeds to sinners ' minds . " Tybalt is dead , and Romeo - banished ; " That- " banished , " that one word— “ banished , " Hath ...
... death . That murther'd me : I would forget it fain ; But , O ! it presses to my memory , Like damned guilty deeds to sinners ' minds . " Tybalt is dead , and Romeo - banished ; " That- " banished , " that one word— “ banished , " Hath ...
Page 53
... death ; no words can that woe sound.- Where is my father , and my mother , nurse ? NURSE . Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse : Will you go to them ? I will bring you thither . JUL . Wash they his wounds with tears ? mine shall be ...
... death ; no words can that woe sound.- Where is my father , and my mother , nurse ? NURSE . Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse : Will you go to them ? I will bring you thither . JUL . Wash they his wounds with tears ? mine shall be ...
Page 54
... death : -then banished Is death mis - term'd . Calling death banishment , Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe , And smil'st upon the stroke that murthers me . FRI . O deadly sin ! O rude unthankfulness ! Thy fault our law calls death ...
... death : -then banished Is death mis - term'd . Calling death banishment , Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe , And smil'st upon the stroke that murthers me . FRI . O deadly sin ! O rude unthankfulness ! Thy fault our law calls death ...
Page 57
... death , became thy friend , And turn'd it to exile ; there art thou happy : A pack of blessing lights upon thy back ; Happiness courts thee in her best array ; But , like a misbehav'd and sullen wench , Thou puttest up thy fortune and ...
... death , became thy friend , And turn'd it to exile ; there art thou happy : A pack of blessing lights upon thy back ; Happiness courts thee in her best array ; But , like a misbehav'd and sullen wench , Thou puttest up thy fortune and ...
Page 59
... death : I am content , so thou wilt have it so . I'll say , yon grey is not the morning's eye , " T is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ; Nor that is not the lark , whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads : I ...
... death : I am content , so thou wilt have it so . I'll say , yon grey is not the morning's eye , " T is but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow ; Nor that is not the lark , whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads : I ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALCIB Alcibiades APEM Apemantus Appears art thou Banquo blood Brabantio Capulet Cassio Castle Cordelia Cyprus daughter dead dear death Desdemona dost thou doth duke EMIL Enter Exeunt Exit eyes father fear FLAV folio follow fool fortune GENT gentleman give Gloster Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven honest honour IAGO Juliet KENT king knave lady LAER Laertes LEAR live look lord MACB Macbeth MACD Macduff madam means Mercutio Michael Cassio murther nature never night noble NURSE Othello passage play poet POLONIUS poor pray quarto reads QUEEN Roderigo Romeo Romeo and Juliet SCENE servant Shakspere Shakspere's sleep soul speak speech Steevens sweet sword tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast Timon to-night TRAGEDIES.-VOL Tybalt villain WITCH word Отн
Popular passages
Page 139 - I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
Page 175 - 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 584 - 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.
Page 562 - t then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man ; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place, Did then adhere, and yet you would make both : They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you.
Page 529 - Lear And my poor fool is hang'd. No, no, no life? Why should a dog, a horse, a rat have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more. Never, never, never, never, never. Pray you undo this button. Thank you, sir.
Page 125 - gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely.
Page 565 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, 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 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 18 - Drums in his ears; at which he starts, and wakes; And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night ; And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs, Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes.
Page 26 - t is not to me she speaks : Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars. As daylight doth a lamp ; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night.
Page 27 - O Romeo, Romeo ! wherefore art thou Romeo ? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.