Attic & Elizabethan Tragedy

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J.M. Dent & Company, 1908 - Comparative literature - 356 pages
 

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Page 262 - Hear, Nature, hear ! dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful ! Into her womb convey sterility ! Dry up in her the organs of increase, And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her...
Page 241 - Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will: My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow?
Page 239 - What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff That beetles o'er his base into the sea, And there assume some other horrible form, Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason And draw you into madness?
Page 301 - I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
Page 262 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 258 - tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave. — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Page 228 - She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Page 240 - 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, Must give us pause...
Page 251 - I'll pour this pestilence into his ear, — That she repeals him for her body's lust ; And by how much she strives to do him good She shall undo her credit with the Moor. So will I turn her virtue into pitch ; And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.
Page 252 - By the world, I think my wife be honest, and think she is not ; I think that thou art just, and think thou art not : I'll have some proof : her name, that was as fresh As Dian's visage, is now begrimed and black As mine own face.

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