Remarks, Critical, Conjectural, and Explanatory, Upon the Plays of Shakspeare: Resulting from a Collation of the Early Copies, with that of Johnson and Steevens, Ed. by Isaac Reed, Esq., Together with Some Valuable Extracts from the Mss. of the Late Right Honourable John, Lord Chedworth, Wydanie 1

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J. Wright, 1805
 

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Strona 188 - Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off ; And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.
Strona 188 - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off...
Strona 346 - Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger's heart, wrapt in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.
Strona 24 - But what my power might else exact, — like one Who having unto truth, by telling of it, Made such a sinner of his memory, To credit his own lie...
Strona 188 - He's here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
Strona 349 - Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought.
Strona 44 - The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; And on old Hyems' chin, and icy crown, An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set.
Strona 254 - All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus ; There is no virtue like necessity.
Strona 440 - Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
Strona 199 - 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?

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