The plays and poems of Shakespeare, according to the improved text of E. Malone, with notes and illustr., ed. by A.J. Valpy, 10. kötet

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86. oldal - One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded of things past, And give to dust *, that is a little gilt, More laud than gilt o'er-dusted.
51. oldal - Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
30. oldal - And posts, like the commandment of a King, Sans check, to good and bad: but when the planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What plagues, and what portents, what mutiny, What raging of the sea. shaking of earth, Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture!
83. oldal - I do not strain at the position, It is familiar; but at the author's drift: Who, in his circumstance," expressly proves — That no man is the lord of any thing, (Though in and of him there be much consisting,) Till he communicate his parts to others : Nor doth he of himself know them for aught Till he behold them form'd in the applause Where they are extended ; which, like an arch, reverberates The voice again ; or like a gate of steel Fronting the sun, receives and renders back His figure and his...
73. oldal - Nothing, but our undertakings; when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough, than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady, — that the will is infinite, and the execution confined ; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.
262. oldal - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
47. oldal - But value dwells not in particular will ; It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer : 'tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god ; And the will dotes, that is attributive To what infectiously itself affects, Without some image of the affected merit.
87. oldal - Plutus' gold ; Finds bottom in th' uncomprehensive deeps ; Keeps place with thought, and almost, like the gods, Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles. There is a mystery (with whom relation Durst never meddle) in the soul of state; Which hath an operation more divine, Than breath, or pen, can give...
84. oldal - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
71. oldal - Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness For the capacity of my ruder powers : I fear it much ; and I do fear besides That I shall lose distinction in my joys ; As doth...

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