The Dramatic Magazine, Ausgabe 1

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Seite 32 - 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 217 - Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : You take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house ; you take my life, When you do take the means whereby I live.
Seite 210 - Mountains and hills, come, come, and fall on me, And hide me from the heavy wrath of God ! No, no.
Seite 217 - Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own.
Seite 210 - It strikes, it strikes ; now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to Hell. [Thunder and lightning. O soul, be changed into little water-drops, And fall into the ocean : ne'er be found.
Seite 210 - O, no end is limited to damned souls. Why wert thou not a creature wanting soul? Or, why is this immortal that thou hast? Ah, Pythagoras' metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me, and I be changed Unto some brutish beast.
Seite 218 - Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep ; Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast ;— Lady M.
Seite 146 - He had a fever when he was in Spain, And when the fit was on him, I did mark How he did shake...
Seite 209 - Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, That time may cease, and midnight never come; Fair Nature's eye, rise, rise again and make Perpetual day; or let this hour be but A year, a month, a week, a natural day, That Faustus may repent and save his soul! O lente, lente, currite noctis equi! The stars move still, time runs, the clock will strike, The Devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.
Seite 210 - My God! my God! look not so fierce on me! Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile ! Ugly hell, gape not!

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