Dramatic Micellanies [sic]: Consisting of Critical Observations on Several Plays of Shakspeare: with a Review of His Principal Characters, and Those of Various Eminent Writers, as Represented by Mr. Garrick, and Other Celebrated Comedians. ... By Thomas Davies, ... In Three Volumes. ...

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author, and sold at his shop, 1783
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318 psl. - 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.
255 psl. - He only, in a general honest thought, And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, 'This was a man!
210 psl. - Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently; For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honour more than I fear death.
317 psl. - tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave. — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
265 psl. - I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor.
147 psl. - What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
20 psl. - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
128 psl. - He made darkness his secret place, his pavilion round about Him with dark water, and thick clouds to cover Him.
279 psl. - But we should reflect, that Lear is not agitated by one passion only, that he is not moved by rage, by grief, and indignation, singly, but by a tumultuous combination of them all together, where all claim to be heard at once, and where one naturally interrupts the progress of the other.
355 psl. - Ant. Come on, my soldier! Our hearts and arms are still the same : I long Once more to meet our foes; that thou and I, Like Time and Death, marching before our troops, May taste fate to them ; mow them out a passage, And, entering where the foremost squadrons yield, Begin the noble harvest of the field.

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