The Plays of William Shakspeare ...C. Bathurst, 1785 |
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againſt Anne Aufidius becauſe blood Buck Buckingham buſineſs cardinal caufe Cham Clarence Cominius confcience Coriolanus curfe death doth duke Edward Enter Exeunt expreffion fafe faid fame fatirical fear feems fenfe fent fhall fhew fhould fignifies filk firft flain fleep fome foul fpeak fpeech friends ftand ftate ftill fubject fuch fword Glofter grace Haftings hath hear heart heaven Henry VIII himſelf Holinfhed honour horfe JOHNSON king king's lady laft Lart lord Lord Chamberlain madam mafter MALONE Marcius Menenius moft moſt muft Murd muſt myſelf noble old copy paffage peace perfon pleaſe pleaſure Plutarch pray prefent prince quarto Queen Rich Richard Richard III Rome ſay Shakspeare ſhall ſpeak ſtate STEEVENS thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou ufed unto uſed Volces WARBURTON whofe wife Wolfey word
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238 psl. - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
42 psl. - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell, Such terrible impression made my dream.
499 psl. - I'll speak a little. [He holds her by the hand, silent] CORIOLANUS. O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome; But for your son— believe it, O, believe it!— Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him.
348 psl. - Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate ; and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust ye? With every minute you do change a mind, And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland.
283 psl. - A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
21 psl. - Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? Was ever woman in this humour won ? I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks...
280 psl. - This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
284 psl. - Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's ; then if thou...
6 psl. - That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time...
280 psl. - Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.