« PreviousContinue »
The wind sits in the shoulder of
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
V Though this be madness, yet there is method in it.
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason ! how infinite in faculty !-in form, and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel ! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust ? man delights not me, no, nor woman neither ; though, by your smiling, you seem to say so.*
Give us a taste of your quality.
They are the abstract, and brief chronicles of the time.
Use every man after his desert, and
What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba ? Ibid.
Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
The devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.
* This well-known quotation in some copies differs slightly from the above.