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Seite 436 - O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it outherods Herod : pray you, avoid it.
Seite 2 - O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft Have you climb'd up to walls and battlements, To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops, Your infants in your arms, and there have sat The live-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome: And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks, To hear the replication of your sounds, Made in her concave shores?
Seite 436 - And let those that play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for them ; for there be of them, that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too ; though, in the mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered. That's villanous ; and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
Seite 437 - As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing ; A man that fortune's buffets and rewards Hast ta'en with equal thanks : and blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Seite 30 - A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy ; Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war ; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds : And Caesar's spirit ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry
Seite 520 - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner; and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The .immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! logo.
Seite 491 - She'd come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse : which, I observing, Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels...
Seite 40 - All this ? ay, more : Fret, till your proud heart break ; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ? Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour ? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you ! for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.
Seite 412 - Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane, O, answer me!
Seite 402 - gainst that season comes Wherein our saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.