Notes Upon Some of the Obscure Passages in Shakespeare's Plays: With Remarks Upon the Explanations and Amendments of the Commentators in the Editions of 1785, 1790, 1793

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W. Bulmer and Company, Cleveland-Row, St. James, 1805 - 375
 

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Strona 110 - The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Strona 111 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i...
Strona 328 - No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, never, never, never, never!
Strona 278 - For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech To stir men's blood.
Strona 343 - In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets...
Strona 179 - When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound; But now two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough: this earth, that bears thee dead, Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
Strona 332 - O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name! Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Strona 204 - HUNG be the heavens with black , yield day to night! Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky ; And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, That have consented unto Henry's death ! Henry the fifth, too famous to live long ! England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.
Strona 132 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Strona 332 - O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wond'ring eyes Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air.

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