The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare: With the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators, 10 tomas

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F. C. and J. Rivington, 1821

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158 psl. - Says suum, mun, ha no nonny, dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa ; let him trot by. [Storm still, continues. Lear. Why, thou were better in thy grave, than to answer with thy uncovered body this extremity of the skies. — Is man no more than this...
247 psl. - And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks I should know you and know this man; Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant What place this is, and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
440 psl. - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
129 psl. - Lear. O, reason not the need ; our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous : Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's.
326 psl. - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
76 psl. - Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet Heaven ! Keep me in temper : I would not be mad ! — Enter Gentleman.
258 psl. - LEAR. No, no, no, no! Come, let's away to prison: We two alone will sing like birds i' the cage: When thou dost ask me blessing, 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...
231 psl. - Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand ! Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own back; Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind For which thou whipp'st her.
13 psl. - Good my lord, You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me; I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you. Why have my sisters husbands, if they say They love you all? Haply...
14 psl. - The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; Here I disclaim all my paternal care, Propinquity and property of blood, And, as a stranger to my heart and me, Hold thee, from this, for ever.

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