The Plays of William Shakespeare, 6. kötet

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T. Bensley, 1804

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87. oldal - Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
65. oldal - That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps-in the comer : welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was ; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded...
94. oldal - O, father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity...
85. oldal - 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.
12. oldal - Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows ! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy : the bounded waters Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, And make a sop of all this solid globe : Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead : Force should be right ; or rather, right and wrong, Between whose endless jar justice resides, Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then...
82. oldal - O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
82. oldal - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
76. oldal - 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.
11. oldal - The heavens themselves, the planets and this centre, Observe degree, priority and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office and custom, in all line of order...
65. oldal - As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done : perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright : to have done is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path ; For emulation hath a thousand sons That one by one pursue : if you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by And leave you hindmost...

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