The Family Shakspeare: In Ten Volumes; in which Nothing is Added to the Original Text; But Those Words and Expressions are Omitted which Cannot with Propriety be Read Aloud in a Family, 9 tomas

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1818

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273 psl. - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
311 psl. - Lear Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray, weep not: If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me/ for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong: YOU have some cause, they have not. Cordelia No cause, no cause.
223 psl. - Thou, Nature, art my goddess ; to thy law My services are bound. Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom, and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother ? Why bastard...
237 psl. - Lear. — Does any here know me ? — This is not Lear : does Lear walk thus? speak thus? Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, or his discernings are lethargied. — Sleeping or waking? — Ha! sure 'tis not so. — Who is it that can tell me who I am ? — Fool.
57 psl. - tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
223 psl. - Thou, nature, art my goddess ; to thy law My services are bound : Wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custom ; and permit The curiosity of nations to deprive me, For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines Lag of a brother? Why bastard?
243 psl. - Lear. O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven ! Keep me in temper : I would not be mad ! — Enter Gentleman.
84 psl. - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
216 psl. - The mysteries of Hecate, and the night ; By all the operations 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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