The Beauties of Shakespear: Regularly Selected from Each Play. With a General Index, Digesting Them Under Proper Heads. Illustrated with Explanatory Notes, and Similar Passages, from Ancient and Modern Authors. By William Dodd, ... In Three Volumes
J. Macgowan, 1780
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action againſt bear beautiful better blood body breath bring Brutus Cæfar character cold crown dare dead death deed doth ears earth eyes face fall father fear fire firſt foul friends give gods grief hand hath head hear heard heart heav'n Henry himſelf honour hour itſelf juſt keep king Lady laſt leave light live look lord Macb Macbeth means mind moſt murder muſt myſelf nature never night noble Obſervations once paſſage peace perſon play poet poor Prince Queen Reader ſays SCENE ſee ſeems ſenſe ſet Shakeſpear ſhall ſhe ſhould ſleep ſome ſoul ſpeak ſpeech ſpirit ſtand ſtill ſuch ſweet tears tell thee theſe thing thoſe thou thou art thought tongue true turn uſe virtue whoſe wife wind
83 psl. - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell...
223 psl. - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?
83 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.
249 psl. - True, I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
236 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.
166 psl. - Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
123 psl. - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
252 psl. - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.