The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, Volume 7 |
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Page 12
Drew sleep out of mine eyes , blood from my cheeks , Musings into my mind , a thousand doubls How I might stop this tempest , ere it came ; And finding little comfort to relieve them , I thought it princely charity to grieve them .
Drew sleep out of mine eyes , blood from my cheeks , Musings into my mind , a thousand doubls How I might stop this tempest , ere it came ; And finding little comfort to relieve them , I thought it princely charity to grieve them .
Page 26
Wishing it so much blood unto your life . Per . I thank both him and you , and pledge him freely . Thai . And further he desires to know of you , Of whence you are , your name and parentage .. Per . A gentleman of Tyre — my name ...
Wishing it so much blood unto your life . Per . I thank both him and you , and pledge him freely . Thai . And further he desires to know of you , Of whence you are , your name and parentage .. Per . A gentleman of Tyre — my name ...
Page 31
Even as my life , my blood that fosters it . Sim . What , are you both agreed ? Both . Yes , ' please your majesty . Sim . It pleaseth me so well , I'll see you wed ; Then , with what haste you can , get you to bed . 1 a [ Excunt .
Even as my life , my blood that fosters it . Sim . What , are you both agreed ? Both . Yes , ' please your majesty . Sim . It pleaseth me so well , I'll see you wed ; Then , with what haste you can , get you to bed . 1 a [ Excunt .
Page 44
... This world to me is like a lasting storm , Whirring me from my friends . Dion . How now , Marina ! why do you keep alone ? How chance my daughter is not with you ? Do not Consume your blood with sorrowing : you have A nurse of me .
... This world to me is like a lasting storm , Whirring me from my friends . Dion . How now , Marina ! why do you keep alone ? How chance my daughter is not with you ? Do not Consume your blood with sorrowing : you have A nurse of me .
Page 45
I'll leave you , my sweet lady , for awhile ; Pray you walk softly , do not heat your blood : What ! I must have a care of you . Mur . Thanks , sweet madam.[ Exit Dionyza . Is this wind westerly that blows ? Leon . South - west . Mar.
I'll leave you , my sweet lady , for awhile ; Pray you walk softly , do not heat your blood : What ! I must have a care of you . Mur . Thanks , sweet madam.[ Exit Dionyza . Is this wind westerly that blows ? Leon . South - west . Mar.
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Popular passages
Page 62 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Page 68 - The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Page 44 - 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, That, from her working, all his visage wann'd ; Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing...
Page 52 - Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the word, the word to the action ; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature...
Page 8 - Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that within, which passeth show; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Page 25 - Hear, Nature, hear ! dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful ! Into her womb convey sterility ! Dry up in her the organs of increase, And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her ! If she must teem, Create her child of spleen, that it may live And be a thwart disnatur'd torment to her ! Let it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth, With cadent...
Page 38 - I have of late— but wherefore I know not— lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Page 18 - So, oft it chances in particular men, That for some vicious mole of nature in them, As, in their birth, — wherein they are not guilty, Since nature cannot choose his origin, — By the o'ergrowth of some complexion, Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens The form of plausive manners; that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace, As infinite as...
Page 54 - 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 may'st shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Page 64 - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law...
Bibliographic information
| Title | The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, Volume 7 The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, Charles Whittingham |
| Author | William Shakespeare |
| Publisher | Carpenter and Son, 1814 |
| Original from | the New York Public Library |
| Digitized | 4 Jan 2007 |
| Export Citation | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |