A Critical Examination of the Text of Shakespeare: With Remarks on His Language and that of His Contemporaries, Together with Notes on His Plays and Poems, Volume 3

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Página 361 - Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die. The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, And tongues to be your being shall rehearse When all the breathers of this world are dead. You still shall live — such virtue hath my pen — Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
Página 180 - For I am a man under authority, having soldiers under me, and I say to this man, go, and he goeth ; and to another, come, and he cometh ; and to my servant do this, and he doeth it.
Página 47 - Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus
Página 309 - As an unperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put besides his part, Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage, Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart...
Página 192 - And posts, like the commandment of a king, Sans check, to good and bad: But when the planets, In evil mixture, to disorder wander, What plagues, and what portents ! what mutiny ! What raging of the sea ! shaking of earth ! Commotion in the winds ! frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states | Quite from their fixture!
Página 70 - Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance : commits his body To painful labour, both by sea and land...
Página 346 - Only, if your Honour seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised ; and vow to take advantage of all idle hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour.
Página 57 - In such a night Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew, And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, And ran dismay'd away. LOR. In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love To come again to Carthage.
Página 167 - Time was when it was praise and boast enough In every clime, and travel where we might, That we were born her children. Praise enough To fill the ambition of a private man, That Chatham's language was his mother tongue, And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his own.
Página 52 - I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; A stage, where every man must play a part, And mine a sad one.

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