Shakspeare Diversions: Second Series, from Dogberry to Hamlet

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Daldy, Isbister, & Company, 1877 - 479 страници
 

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Страница 459 - I'll leave you till night; you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord ! [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Giiildenstern. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' ye :—Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and 'peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit...
Страница 361 - Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do ; Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do't.
Страница 408 - Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, And could of men distinguish her election, She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks...
Страница 59 - When he shall hear she died upon his words, The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination...
Страница 401 - O, this is hire and salary, not revenge. He took my father grossly, full of bread; With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May; And how his audit stands, who knows save heaven? But in our circumstance and course of thought, Tis heavy with him...
Страница 59 - Of every hearer: for it so falls out, That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours.
Страница 120 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is, But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood...
Страница 170 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?
Страница 274 - Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Страница 111 - I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell it. Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances ; Of moving accidents by flood and field ; Of hair-breadth 'scapes i...

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