Essays on Shakespeare's Dramatic Characters: With an Illustration of Shakespeare's Representation of National Characters, in that of Fluellen

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Samuel Bagster, in the Strand., 1812 - 448页

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第46页 - This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, • Against the use of nature...
第109页 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops...
第347页 - Well believe this, No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace, As mercy does.
第22页 - 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!
第59页 - One cried, God bless us ! and, Amen, the other ; As they had seen me, with these hangman's hands, Listening their fear. I could not say, amen, When they did say, God bless us.
第22页 - gainst self-slaughter ! O God ! O God 1 How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world ! Fie on't ! O fie ! 'Tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in nature, Possess it merely.
第51页 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly : if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We'd jump the life to come.
第22页 - O that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!
第111页 - Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
第23页 - Like Niobe, all tears; why she, even she, — O God ! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer, — married with my uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married.

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