“The” Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of Mr. Steeven's Last Edition, with a Selection of the Most Important Notes, Volumen15
G. Fleischer the younger, 1810
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Página 52 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears : I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar.
Página 65 - Julius bleed for justice' sake ? What villain touched his body, that did stab, And not for justice ? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world, But for supporting robbers, shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large...
Página 88 - Countrymen, My heart doth joy that yet, in all my life, I found no man but he was true to me. I shall have glory by this losing day, More than Octavius and Mark Antony By this vile conquest shall attain unto. So fare you well at once; for Brutus...
Página 41 - I could be well mov'd, if I were as you ; If I could pray to move, prayers would move me : But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix'd, and resting quality, There is no fellow in the firmament.
Página 189 - Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen these signs; They are black vesper's pageants.
Página 72 - There is a tide in the affairs of men Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.
Página 56 - O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity; these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what! weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd as you see, with traitors.
Página 20 - How that might change his nature, there's the question: It is the bright day that brings forth the adder; And that craves wary walking. Crown him? — that? And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, That at his will he may do danger with.