The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare: With the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators, 第 9 卷

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F. C. and J. Rivington, 1821
 

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第486页 - tis a lost fear; Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires; — Where should Othello go? — Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench ! Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt, This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, And fiends will snatch at it.
第265页 - My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs...
第64页 - O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
第202页 - I'll lend you all my life to do you service. Duke. Against all sense you do importune her: Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror.
第61页 - tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isabella. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back again: 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260页 - And, till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood, So justly to your grave ears I'll present How I did thrive in this fair lady's love, And she in mine.
第378页 - Look, where he comes ! Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
第104页 - And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
第462页 - It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, — Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — It is the cause.
第475页 - Ay, with Cassio. Nay had she been true, If heaven would make me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, I'd not have sold her for it.

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