The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copy Left by George Steevens: With a Series of Engravings, from Original Designs of Henry Fusell, and a Selection of Explanatory and Historical Notes, Volume 9 (Google eBook)
F.C. and J. Rivington, 1805
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ancient art thou Benvolio blood Brabantio Capulet Cassio Cyprus daughter dead dear death Denmark Desdemona devil dost thou doth Emil Emilia Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell father fear Fortinbras friar Friar Laurence gentleman give grief Guil Guildenstern Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven hither honest honour Horatio i'the Iago is't Johnson Juliet King kiss lady Lady Capulet Laer Laertes lago live look lord madam Mantua married means Mercutio Michael Cassio Montague Moor murder never night noble Nurse o'er Ophelia Othello play Polonius pray Prince Queen Roderigo Romeo Rosencrantz SCENE Shakspeare Shakspeare's signifies soul speak sweet sword tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought to-night Tybalt Venice villain weep What's wife wilt word
Page 205 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Page 126 - It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long : % And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Page 187 - Get thee to a nunnery ; Why would'st thou be a breeder of sinners ? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in : What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven ! We are arrant knaves, all ; believe none of us : Go thy ways to a nunnery.
Page 132 - That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember ? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on : and yet, within a month — Let me not think on't — Frailty, thy name is woman!
Page 140 - Are most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all : to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Page 185 - The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil...
Page 182 - I have heard That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
Page 213 - See, what a grace was seated on this brow : Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Page 29 - 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.