The Plays of William Shakspeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copies Left by the Late George Steevens, Esq., and Edmond Malone, Esq., with Mr. Malone's Various Readings; a Selection of Explanatory and Historical Notes, from the Most Eminent Commentators; a History of the Stage, and a Life of Shakspeare, 8 tomas
Longman and Company, 1847
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ancient appears Attendants bear better blood bring Cassio cause comes daughter dead dear death dost doth draw Duke Emil Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear follow fool fortune give gone Hamlet hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hold honest honour I'll Iago Juliet keep Kent kind king lady Lear leave light live look lord madam marry matter means mind mother murder nature never night noble Nurse Othello play poor pray Queen reason Romeo SCENE seems seen sense Serv Shakspeare signifies soul speak stand sweet sword tears tell thee thine thing thou thou art thought true villain wife young
316 psl. - I'll leave you till night: you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord ! [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you : Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his visage wann'd ; Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ?...
326 psl. - 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: for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.
340 psl. - 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. '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.
285 psl. - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
509 psl. - Yet could I bear that too ; well, very well : But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, Where either I must live or bear no life, The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! Or keep it as a cistern for foul toads To knot and gender in ! Turn thy complexion there, Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubin, Ay, there, look grim as hell ! Des.
270 psl. - That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead! Nay, not so much, not two. So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month Let me not think on't!
118 psl. - I'll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out; And take...
431 psl. - Their dearest action in the tented field ; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ; And, therefore, little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charg'd withal) I won his daughter.
159 psl. - O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...