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The Plays of William Shakespeare
Samuel Johnson,George Steevens,Nicholas Rowe
No preview available - 2018
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answer arms Attendants bear better blood bring brother comes Count daughter dead dear death dost doth Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith father fear follow fool Ford fortune France gentle give gone grace hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hold honour hope Host hour I'll John keep king lady leave Leon live look lord madam marry master mean meet mind mistress never night noble once peace play poor pray present prince reason rest Rich SCENE serve soul speak Speed spirit stand stay sweet tell thank thee thine thing thou art thought thousand tongue true turn unto wife woman York young
Page 78 - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: How would you be, If he, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.
Page 381 - Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made And crowns for convoy put into his purse. We would not die in that man's company That fears his fellowship to die with us.
Page 270 - Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake : Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Page 315 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. DUCH. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the whilst? YORK. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
Page 124 - The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, And, as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Page 16 - By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war...
Page 16 - gainst my fury Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further : Go, release them, Ariel ; My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore, And they shall be themselves.
Page 106 - 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, *a Whiles it was ours.
Page 170 - The seasons' difference ; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — This is no flattery : these are counsellors, That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity ; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and...
Page 297 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.