The Plays of William Shakespeare: In Twenty-one Volumes, with the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators, to which are Added Notes, Bind 15
J. Nichols and Son, 1813
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PLAYS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE I
William 1564-1616 Shakespeare,Isaac 1742-1807 Reed,Samuel 1709-1784 Johnson
Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2016
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Achilles AGAM Ajax ancient appears arms bear believe better blood Book bring called cardinal cause command CRES Cressida doth Duke editions editors Enter Exeunt expression eyes fair fall fear folio fool GENT give given grace Greeks hand hath head hear heart heaven Hector Helen Holinshed honour I'll JOHNSON keep King King Henry king's lady leave look lord MALONE MASON matter means nature never noble observed old copy once opinion Pandarus Paris passage perhaps person play pray present prince quarto queen SCENE seems sense Shakspeare speak speech stand STEEVENS strange suppose sweet tell thee THER thing Thomas thou thought Troilus Trojan Troy true truth ULYSS Wolsey
Side 272 - Force should be right ; or, rather, right and wrong, (Between whose endless jar justice resides,) Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then...
Side 368 - 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. Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path ; For emulation hath a thousand sons, That one by one pursue : If you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost...
Side 215 - So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,) Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd : Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him ; Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations : He shall flourish, And, like a mountain...
Side 138 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ; I feel my heart new open'd : O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes...
Side 370 - O ! let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was ; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin...
Side 79 - Must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Side 162 - Ipswich and Oxford! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little: And, to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died fearing God.
Side 156 - O father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity...
Side 369 - O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; For time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And, with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing.
Side 143 - A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.