The works of Shakespeare, with corrections and illustr. from various commentators, Volume 5

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Page 229 - In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility : But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...
Page 205 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their ( emperor...
Page 146 - I'll ne'er bear a base mind: an't be my destiny, so; an't be not, so: No man's too good to serve his prince ; and, let it go which way it will, he that dies this year, is quit for the next.
Page 13 - He was perfumed like a milliner; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and took't away again ; Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff...
Page 220 - A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers...
Page 79 - 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 that word, honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o
Page 79 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it : therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere 'scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
Page 205 - Obedience : for so work the honey bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The art of order to a peopled kingdom : They have a king, and officers of sorts ; Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ; Which pillage they with merry march bring home...
Page 139 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd ; The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
Page 47 - Why, so can I ; or so can any man : But will they come, when you do call for them ? Glend.

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