Literary and Graphical Illustrations of Shakespeare and the British Drama: Comprising an Historical View of the Origin and Improvement of the English Stage, and a Series of Critical and Descriptive Notices of Upwards and One Hundred of the Most Celebrated Tragedies, Comedies, Operas and Farces

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E. Wilson, 1831 - 204 Seiten

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Seite 13 - quoth he, how the world wags ; 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine: And after an hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.
Seite 55 - Macbeth. Is this a dagger, which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee :— I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 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 ? Act 2.
Seite 25 - be fear'd, and kill with looks; Infusing him with self and vain conceit,— As if this flesh, which walls about our life, Were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus, Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and—farewell, king!
Seite 57 - hack a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar ? Not one now, to mock your own grinning ? quite chapfallen
Seite 21 - Thy mother Appear'd to me last night: for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another; I never saw a vessel of like sorrow So fill'd, and so becoming: in pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay.
Seite 61 - s lodging lose this napkin, And let him find it: Trifles, light as air, Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong As proofs of holy writ. This may do something. The Moor already changes with my poison.
Seite xiii - Julia. Lo, here in one line is his name twice writ,— Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus, To the sweet Julia /—that I'll tear away : And yet I will not, sith so prettily He couples it to his complaining names: Thus will I fold them one upon another; Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will.
Seite 27 - and possess'd with fear So strongly, that they dare not meet each other; Each takes his fellow for an officer. Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along: Wer't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Seite 1 - for death ! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season ; shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves ? Good, good my lord, bethink you ? Who is it that hath died for this offence ? There's many have committed it.
Seite 23 - And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair: My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered; And then, all this thou see'st, is but a clod, And module of confounded royalty. Act

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