Characteristics of Women, Moral, Poetical, and Historical, Bind 2;Bind 70

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Saunders and Otley, 1858
 

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Side 315 - Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, • Against the use of nature...
Side 317 - Like the poor cat i' the adage? Macb. Prithee, peace I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. Lady M. What beast was't then That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man.
Side 228 - 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.
Side 322 - Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promised : yet do I fear thy nature; \ It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way...
Side 155 - tis most certain, Iras. Saucy lictors Will catch at us, like strumpets ; and scald rhymers Ballad us out o' tune : the quick comedians Extemporally will stage us, and present Our Alexandrian revels : Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness I
Side 291 - Orpheus with his lute made trees. And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung ; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring.
Side 218 - And, father cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heaven : If that be true, I shall see my boy again...
Side 99 - Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth : I love your majesty According to my bond ; nor more nor less.
Side 93 - O my dear father ! Restoration, hang Thy medicine on my lips ; and let this kiss Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters Have in thy reverence made ! Kent.
Side 104 - tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave. — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.

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