The Works of Shakespeare in Seven Volumes, Volumen 7

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A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch, 1733
 

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Página 70 - Keeps honour bright : To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.
Página 281 - Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her!
Página 251 - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres...
Página 292 - ... accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Página 327 - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
Página 170 - These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die ! like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.
Página 443 - Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. — Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow {Kneels, I here engage my words.
Página 247 - The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels ; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.
Página 154 - What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for thy. name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
Página 274 - In form and moving how express and admirable ! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, — no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.

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