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Æmil againſt anſwer appears bear believe better blood bring cauſe character Clown comes common dead dear death doth editions effect Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear firſt follow give Hamlet hand hath head hear heart heav'n himſelf hold Iago keep kind King lady lago leave light lines live look Lord married matter means mind Moor moſt muſt nature never night Nurſe once play poor Pope pray quarto Queen reaſon Romeo ſaid ſame ſay SCENE ſee ſeems ſenſe Shakeſpeare ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſoul ſpeak ſpeech ſtand ſuch ſweet tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou thought tion true uſed WARB WARBURTON whoſe wife young
Seite 39 - Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul.
Seite 210 - As made the things more rich : their perfume lost, Take these again ; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
Seite 59 - These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume...
Seite 214 - Be not too tame, neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor; suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature...
Seite 234 - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults To give in evidence.
Seite 252 - Not where he eats, but where he is eaten : a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet : we fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots : your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service, — two dishes, but to one table : that's the end.
Seite 83 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Seite 363 - O my soul's joy ! If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death ! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, Olympus-high ; and duck again as low As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy ; for, I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute, That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.