The works of Shakespear, with a glossary, pr. from the Oxford ed. in quarto, 1744 [by Sir T.Hanmer].

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Seite 148 - I'll be with you straight. Go a little before. [Exeunt all except HAMLET How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.
Seite 118 - What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her! What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have?
Seite 125 - 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 35 - These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die : like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.
Seite 134 - ... 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.
Seite 135 - The cease of majesty Dies not alone, but like a gulf doth draw What's near it with it...
Seite 134 - 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.
Seite 193 - I do perceive here a divided duty: To you I am bound for life and education; My life and education both do learn me How to respect you; you are the lord of duty; I am hitherto your daughter: but here's my husband; And so much duty as my mother show'd To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord.
Seite 203 - 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.
Seite 112 - In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel ! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, — no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

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