The Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 9

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E. H. Dumont, 1901

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Page 50 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself...
Page 104 - Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school : and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used, and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
Page 49 - O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain ; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live.
Page 115 - And so I was; which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word love, which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me: I am myself alone.
Page 50 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, • His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Page 146 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Page 53 - Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud, ' What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...
Page 26 - Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace...
Page 146 - The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself? There's none else by, Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No; yes, I am: Then fly. What from myself? Great reason why? Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good That I myself have done unto myself? 0 no! Alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself.
Page 52 - As we pac'd along Upon tHe giddy footing of the hatches, Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board, Into the tumbling billows of the main.

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