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Page 177 - This royal throne of kings, this scept'red isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea...
Page 52 - That Tiber trembled underneath her banks To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores ? And do you now put on your best attire, And do you now cull out a holiday, And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Begone ! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Page 251 - I am a Jew: hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by' the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?
Page 254 - Let me play the fool : With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?
Page 295 - Thou art by no means valiant; For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm : Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more, Thou art not thyself...
Page 318 - When, in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, Desiring this man's art and that man's scope.
Page 169 - I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too, Who loses,- and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; And take...
Page 170 - Kent. Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.