The Beauties of Shakespear: Regularly Selected from Each Play. With a General Index, Digesting Them Under Proper Heads. Illustrated with Explanatory Notes, and Similar Passages, from Ancient and Modern Authors. By William Dodd, ... In Three Volumes
J. Macgowan, 1780
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Æschylus Agamemnon Ajax ambition art thou Banquo bear beauty blood bosom breath Brutus Cæsar Caffius Casar Catiline character cheeks crown cry'd dangerous dare dead death deed dost doth dream ears earth Euripides eyes fame father fays fear fense Flamen foul friends give gods grief hand hast hath head hear heart heav'n Henry honour Iago Juliet Julius Cæsar king Lady Laneaster Lear lise live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd mind mould murder nature never night noble o'er observes Othello Ovid passage pity play poet poison'd poor Prince racter Reader Romeo Scene III Scene VII sear Shakespear shew sield sine sire sirst sleep smiles sorrow speak speech spirit sweet sword tears tell thee thine thing thou art thought tongue virtue vulg Warburton wife wilt wind word younker
Seite 85 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell...
Seite 225 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?
Seite 85 - 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 for ever hide me.
Seite 251 - True, I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
Seite 238 - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell, Such terrible impression made my dream.
Seite 168 - Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
Seite 125 - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
Seite 254 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.