The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text of the corrected copy left by G. Steevens, with glossarial notes, Volume 6 |
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Page 9
... look . [ Exeunt Wolsey , and train . Buck . This butcher's cur * is venom - mouth'd , and I Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore , best Not wake him in his slumber . A beggar's book Out - worths a nobie's blood . Nor . What ...
... look . [ Exeunt Wolsey , and train . Buck . This butcher's cur * is venom - mouth'd , and I Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore , best Not wake him in his slumber . A beggar's book Out - worths a nobie's blood . Nor . What ...
Page 10
... looks Matter against me ; and his eye revil'd Me , as his abject objeet : at this instant He bores me with some trick : He's gone to the king ; I'll follow , and out - stare him . Nor . Stay , my lord , And let your reason with your ...
... looks Matter against me ; and his eye revil'd Me , as his abject objeet : at this instant He bores me with some trick : He's gone to the king ; I'll follow , and out - stare him . Nor . Stay , my lord , And let your reason with your ...
Page 12
... look on The business present : ' Tis his highness ' pleasure You shall to the Tower . Buck . It will help me nothing , To plead mine innocence ; for that die is on me , Which makes my whitest part black . The will of Heaven Be done in ...
... look on The business present : ' Tis his highness ' pleasure You shall to the Tower . Buck . It will help me nothing , To plead mine innocence ; for that die is on me , Which makes my whitest part black . The will of Heaven Be done in ...
Page 17
... look to't ; I put it to your care . Wol . A word with you . [ To the Secretary . Let there be letters writ to every shire , Of the king's grace and pardon . The griev'd commons Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois'd , That , through ...
... look to't ; I put it to your care . Wol . A word with you . [ To the Secretary . Let there be letters writ to every shire , Of the king's grace and pardon . The griev'd commons Hardly conceive of me ; let it be nois'd , That , through ...
Page 26
... Look out there , some of you . Wol . What's that ? [ Exit a Servant . What warlike voice ? And to what end is this ? -Nay , ladies , fear not ; By all the laws of war you are privileg'd . Re - enter Servant . Cham . How now ? what is't ...
... Look out there , some of you . Wol . What's that ? [ Exit a Servant . What warlike voice ? And to what end is this ? -Nay , ladies , fear not ; By all the laws of war you are privileg'd . Re - enter Servant . Cham . How now ? what is't ...
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Common terms and phrases
Achilles Æneas Agam Agamemnon Ajax Alcib Alcibiades Antenor Antium Apem Apemantus Athens Aufidius bear beseech blood Calchas cardinal Cham Cominius Coriolanus Cres Cressid Crom Diomed dost doth duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell fear Flav fool friends Gent give gods grace Grecian Greeks hate hath hear heart heaven Hect Hector Helen honour i'the Kath king lady Lart Lartius look Lord Chamberlain lord Timon madam Marcius Menelaus Menenius musick ne'er Nest Nestor never noble o'the Pandarus Patr Patroclus peace Pr'ythee pray Priam prince queen Re-enter Rome SCENE Senators Serv Servant Sir Thomas Lovell soul speak stand Suff sweet sword tell thank thee Ther there's Thersites thine thing thou art thou hast Timon to't tongue Troilus Trojan Troy true trumpet Ulyss voices Volces What's word worthy
Popular passages
Page 72 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Page 175 - Keeps honour bright : To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast : keep, then, the path...
Page 72 - O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Page 299 - I'll example you with thievery : The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction , ' Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : . • The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture " stolen From general excrement : each thing's a thief; The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheck'd theft.
Page 285 - Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant. Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench...
Page 75 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr...
Page 431 - O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome; But for your son— believe it, O, believe it!— Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him.
Page 74 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee...
Page 175 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
Page 72 - Farewell ! a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him . The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.