Measure for measure. Troilus and Cressida

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Harper & brothers, 1884

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Page 78 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world...
Page 105 - As fast as they are made , forgot as soon As done. Perseverance , dear my lord , Keeps honour bright: to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion , like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.
Page 185 - Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The genius, and the mortal instruments, Are then in council; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
Page 64 - Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer, Would use his heaven for thunder ; Nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven ! Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle...
Page 22 - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once ; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy...
Page 22 - Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.
Page 50 - Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt.
Page 51 - We must not make a scare-crow of the law, ' Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.
Page 171 - ... the prince of the lights of heaven, which now as a giant doth run his unwearied course, should as it were through a languishing faintness begin to stand and to rest himself...
Page 160 - Seals of love, but seal'd in vain. Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow, Are of those that April wears. But first set my poor heart free, Bound in those icy chains by thee.

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