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Oh sacred receptacle of my joys, Sweet cell of virtue and nobility, How many sons
hast thou of mine in store, That thou wilt never render to me more? Luc. Give us
the proudest prisoner of the Goths, That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile Ad ...
Re - enter LUCIUS . Luc . My lord , you are unjust ; and , more than so , In
wrongful quarrel you have slain your son . Tit . Nor thou , nor he , are any sons of
mine : My sons would never so dishonour me . Traitor , restore Lavinia to the
He , that had wit , would think that I had none , To bury so much gold under a tree
, And never after to inherit it . Let him that thinks of me so abjectly , Know that this
gold must coin a stratagem , Which , cunningly effected , will beget A very ...
These two have ' tic ' d me hither to this place , A barren detested vale , you see ,
it is : The trees , though summer , yet forlorn and lean , O ' ercome with moss , and
baleful misletoe : Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds , Unless the ...
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4tos acted altered appear arms bear better blood brother Brutus Caesar comes corr daughter dead dear death dost doth doubt edition Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fear folio follow fool friends give gods gone Hamlet hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hold honour keep Kent king Lady Lear leave live look lord Lucius Macb Macbeth mark master means misprinted murder nature never night noble Nurse old copies omitted passage perhaps play poet poor pray printed Queen reason Rome Romeo SCENE seems sense Serv servants Shakespeare speak speech stand sweet sword tears tell thee thing thou thou art thought Timon true word
Page 343 - Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see, that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And, sure, he is an honourable man.
Page 316 - I have not slept Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream : The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council ; and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
Page 345 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii : Look, in this place ran Cassius...
Page 405 - 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 ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Page 405 - 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? I see thee yet, in form as palpable 40 As this which now I draw.
Page 344 - tis his will: Let but the commons hear this testament, , (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it as a rich legacy Unto their issue.
Page 356 - I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; — For I can raise no money by vile means : By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection ; — I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me : was that done like Cassius ? Should I have answer...
Page 400 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly : if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We'd jump the life to come.
Page 127 - 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...