Knight's Cabinet edition of the works of William Shakspere, Volume 6

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C. Knight&Company, 1843
 

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Page 309 - And so I was ; which plainly signified — That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. ' Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother : ' And this word — love, which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me ; I am myself alone.
Page 322 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Page 321 - Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings; Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now,— instead of mounting barbed steeds, To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,— He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
Page 19 - Since I have entered into these wars. Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.
Page 432 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty, guilty!
Page 321 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Page 346 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea : Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Page 346 - With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger...

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