The Works of Shakespeare, Volume 3J. and P. Knapton, 1752 |
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Page 16
... She , Why the Grecians facked Troy ? [ Singing Was this King Priam's Joy ? ] As the Stanza , that fol- lows , is in alternate Rhyme , and as a Rhyme is here wanting to Sbe in the firft Verfe ; ' tis evident , the third Line is wanting ...
... She , Why the Grecians facked Troy ? [ Singing Was this King Priam's Joy ? ] As the Stanza , that fol- lows , is in alternate Rhyme , and as a Rhyme is here wanting to Sbe in the firft Verfe ; ' tis evident , the third Line is wanting ...
Page 18
... She then more naturally fubjoin , than as I have amended in the Text ? Diana , no Queen of Virgins , that would suffer her poor Knight to be furpriz'd without Refcue , & c . For in Poetical Hiftory Diana was as well known to prefide ...
... She then more naturally fubjoin , than as I have amended in the Text ? Diana , no Queen of Virgins , that would suffer her poor Knight to be furpriz'd without Refcue , & c . For in Poetical Hiftory Diana was as well known to prefide ...
Page 20
... Scene , where he gives the Countess Intelligence of Helen's Behaviour , fays ; Alone She was , and did communicate to herself ber own Words to her own Ears . Hel . Hel . Then , I confefs , Here on my 20 All's well , that Ends well .
... Scene , where he gives the Countess Intelligence of Helen's Behaviour , fays ; Alone She was , and did communicate to herself ber own Words to her own Ears . Hel . Hel . Then , I confefs , Here on my 20 All's well , that Ends well .
Page 21
... she is fure to lofe ; That feeks not to find that , which fearch implies ; But , riddle - like , lives fweetly , where the dies . Count . Had you not lately an intent , fpeak truly , To go to Paris ? Bel . Madam , I had . Count ...
... she is fure to lofe ; That feeks not to find that , which fearch implies ; But , riddle - like , lives fweetly , where the dies . Count . Had you not lately an intent , fpeak truly , To go to Paris ? Bel . Madam , I had . Count ...
Page 26
... she : my Lord , there's one ar- riv'd , If you will fee her . Now , by my faith and honour , If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance , I have spoke With one that in her sex , her years , profeffion , Wisdom ...
... she : my Lord , there's one ar- riv'd , If you will fee her . Now , by my faith and honour , If seriously I may convey my thoughts In this my light deliverance , I have spoke With one that in her sex , her years , profeffion , Wisdom ...
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Popular passages
Page 246 - Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ? Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight ? and all eyes blind With the pin and web,' but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
Page 376 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Page 133 - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
Page 407 - 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.
Page 97 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.