Shakspere: Personal Recollections

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Broadway Publishing Company, 1904 - 306 стор.

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Сторінка 268 - 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; And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble...
Сторінка 126 - And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; I am no orator, as Brutus is: But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend : and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him.
Сторінка 182 - Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well then, it now appears you need my help: Go to, then; you come to me, and you say "Shylock, we would have moneys...
Сторінка 171 - More strange than true : I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers and madmen have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact...
Сторінка 180 - Let me play the Fool : With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes?
Сторінка 123 - Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak: for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Сторінка 99 - But, soft ! what light through yonder window breaks ! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — [Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she...
Сторінка 121 - O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers ! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times.
Сторінка 252 - Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round...
Сторінка 217 - O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword; The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!

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