Shakspere's works [from the text of N. Delius].

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Page 236 - ning clamour in the slippery clouds, That with the hurly death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Page 50 - All murder'd : for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antick sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp ; Allowing him a breath, a little scene...
Page 134 - Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanied : for though the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it wears.
Page 85 - Ha, ha ! keep time. How sour sweet music is When time is broke and no proportion kept ! So is it in the music of men's lives.
Page 49 - Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
Page 174 - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Page 236 - With deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? — Canst thou, O partial Sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king?
Page 130 - I turn upon the true prince ? why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules : but beware instinct ; the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter ; I was now a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince.
Page 20 - O, who can hold a fire in his hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? " Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast ? Or wallow naked in December snow, By thinking on fantastic k summer's heat?
Page 162 - I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus And witch the world with noble horsemanship.

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