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Academici adeo alia aliquando aliud animi animo arbitror cauſa certe comędia conſtat cujus denique dramate dramaticis dramatis eadem effe eodem eorum erit eſſe eſt Etenim fabula fępe fane fatis fere fibi fieri five folum funt genere gratia hęc hanc hiſce homines hominum hujuſmodi igitur illa illam ille illi illis illud illum imagines ingenii ingenium inquit ipſa iſta Itaque locum magis maxime mihi minus mores multa naturę naturam neque nihil nimirum niſi nomine nonnunquam nullo nunc oculis omni omnibus omnino omnium parte pene penitus plerumque poeta poetę poetarum poeticę poetis porro potius prę pręcipue profecto propter prorſus quę quędam quaſi quicquid Quin quippe quis quorum quos ratio ratione rebus rerum ſed ſemper ſit ſua ſunt ſuo tamen tanquam tantum verum videtur vobis γαρ δε εν και
Page 241 - 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 232 - Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Page 253 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas ! poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
Page 258 - Dar'st thou, Cassius, now Leap in with me into this angry flood, And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in And bade him follow; so indeed he did. The torrent...
Page 256 - I remember when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin new reap'd Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home.
Page 256 - But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat...
Page 304 - No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
Page 238 - 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?