Shakespeare's Works, Հատոր 8

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Harper & brothers, 1884
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Էջ 25 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — O Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down...
Էջ 44 - And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, And pay the debt I never promised, By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men's hopes ; And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, My reformation, glittering o'er my fault, Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
Էջ 80 - God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea; and other times to see The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips; how chances mock, And changes fill the cup of alteration With divers liquors! O, if this were seen, The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book and sit him down and die.
Էջ 119 - 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
Էջ 50 - When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model, And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection, Which if we find outweighs ability, What do we then but draw anew the model In fewer offices, or at last desist To build at all?
Էջ 80 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased ; The which observed, 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 intreasure'd. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Էջ 25 - Methought I heard a voice cry " Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M.
Էջ 24 - I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyoked humour of your idleness. Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world...
Էջ 45 - My liege, I did deny no prisoners ; But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom...
Էջ 25 - Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning 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...

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