The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copy Left by the Late George Steevens, Esq., with Glossarial Notes and a Sketch of the Life of Shakespeare, Band 2
M'Carty & Davis, and H.C. Carey & I. Lea, 1824
Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Antony arms Attendants bear better blood bring brother Cæsar cause Cleo comes crown daughter dead dear death dost doth duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair fall father fear fight follow fool fortune France friends give gods gone grace hand hast hath head hear heart heaven Henry hold honour hope I'll Iago keep king lady Lear leave live look lord madam master mean mind mother nature never night noble once peace play poor pray present prince queen rest Rich Rome SCENE Serv soldiers soul speak stand stay sweet sword tears tell thank thee thine thing thou thou art thought tongue true unto wife York young
Seite 430 - O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that neither having the accent of Christians nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Seite 131 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Seite 433 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me. You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Seite 455 - scapes i' the imminent, deadly breach ; Of being taken by the insolent foe And sold to slavery ; of my redemption thence, And portance in my travel's history, Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven. It was my hint to speak, such was the process ; And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders.
Seite 237 - Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.
Seite 309 - This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation.
Seite 420 - Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason, Or by some habit that too much o'er-leavens The form of plausive manners ; that these men, Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect, Being nature's livery, or fortune's star, Their virtues else, be they as pure as grace, As infinite as man may undergo, Shall in the general censure take corruption From that particular fault : the dram of eale Doth all the noble substance of a doubt To his own scandal.
Seite 227 - Why should that name be sounded more than yours ? Write them together, yours is as fair a name ; Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well ; Weigh them, it is as heavy ; conjure with 'em, Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar.
Seite 241 - I could weep My spirit from mine eyes ! There is my dagger, And here my naked breast ; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold ; If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart ; Strike, as thou didst at Caesar ; for I know, When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius.