Some 300 Fresh Allusions to Shakspere from 1594 to 1694 A.D.

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Frederick James Furnivall
Trübner, 1886 - 372 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 67 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate. So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; But yet a union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; Two of the first, like coats...
Pàgina 8 - Round-hoofd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide : Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Pàgina 59 - 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.
Pàgina 119 - Think, my lord ! By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown.
Pàgina 139 - Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that he sings at grave-making?
Pàgina 98 - Helicanus, strike me, honour'd sir ; Give me a gash, put me to present pain ; Lest this great sea of joys rushing upon me, O'erbear the shores of my mortality, And drown me with their sweetness.
Pàgina 107 - I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chapfallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i
Pàgina 132 - Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his visage wann'd; Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit?
Pàgina 120 - Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. — Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow {Kneels, I here engage my words.
Pàgina 99 - The letter, as I live, with all the business I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell ! I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness; And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting: I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more.