The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts, Tom 6

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Jacob Tonson, within Grays-Inn Gate, next Grays-Inn Lane., 1709

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Strona 2732 - O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n : young boys and girls Are level now with men ; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.
Strona 2738 - His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm Crested the world: his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder.
Strona 2667 - Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion.
Strona 2710 - Mine honesty and I begin to square. The loyalty well held to fools does make Our faith mere folly : yet he that can endure To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord Does conquer him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i
Strona 2743 - Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have Immortal longings in me : Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: — Yare, yare, good Iras; quick.
Strona 2735 - My desolation does begin to make A better life : Tis paltry to be Caesar; Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave, A minister of her will ; And it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds ; Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change; Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung, The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.
Strona 2811 - Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
Strona 2710 - I see, men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes ; and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.
Strona 257 - Divines and dying men may talk of Hell, But in my heart her several torments dwell. Slavery and misery! Who in this case Would not take up money upon his soul, Pawn his salvation, live at interest?

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