The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copy Left by George Steevens: With a Series of Engravings, from Original Designs of Henry Fusell, and a Selection of Explanatory and Historical Notes, Volume 8

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F.C. and J. Rivington, 1805
 

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Page 408 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Page 451 - How does my royal lord ? How fares your majesty ? Lear. You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave : Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Page 457 - 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, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll...
Page 65 - tis slander ; Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
Page 355 - These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us : Though the wisdom of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet nature finds itself scourged by the sequent effects : love cools, friendship falls off, brothers divide: in cities, mutinies; in countries, discord; in palaces, treason; and the bond cracked between son and father.
Page 451 - 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 470 - The weight of this sad time we must obey ; Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most : we, that are young, Shall never see so much, nor live so long.
Page 137 - To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation.
Page 438 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs that wing the midway air Show scarce so gross as beetles: halfway down Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!
Page 356 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune — often the surfeit of our own behaviour — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon and the stars : as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly compulsion ; knaves, thieves and treachers, by spherical predominance ; drunkards, liars and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence ; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on...

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