The Plays of William Shakspeare, Volum 1

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H. S. Carey and I. Lea, 1822
 

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Side 71 - gainst my fury Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance : they being penitent, The sole drift of my purpose doth extend Not a frown further.
Side 374 - tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, ^ That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Side 71 - And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions ? and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art ? Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, Yet, with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury • Do I take part : the rarer action is In virtue than in vengeance...
Side 73 - The charm dissolves apace ; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason.
Side 358 - 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.
Side 27 - would it had been done ! Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pro. Abhorred slave ; Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes With words that made them known...
Side 275 - O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? O, stay and hear ; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low : Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Journeys end in lovers' meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
Side 138 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair, and wise is she, The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair ? For beauty lives with kindness : Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling : She excels each mortal thing, Upon the dull earth dwelling : To her let us garlands bring.
Side 336 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely...
Side 44 - A strange fish ! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver : there would this monster make a man : any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.

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