A Critical Examination of the Text of Shakespeare: With Remarks on His Language and that of His Contemporaries, Together with Notes on His Plays and Poems, Том 1

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J.R. Smith, 1860
 

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Стр. 235 - The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die, But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity: For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
Стр. 189 - I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit POINS. P. Hen, I know you all, and will a while uphold The unyok'd 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...
Стр. 156 - Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell...
Стр. 243 - O good old man ; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed...
Стр. 225 - tis but a sound ; a name of air ; A minute's storm, or not so much : to tumble From bed to bed, be massacred alive By some physicians, for a month or two, In hope of freedom from a fever's torments, Might stagger manhood ; here the pain is past Ere sensibly 'tis felt.
Стр. 147 - We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good ; so find we profit, By losing of our prayers.
Стр. 54 - What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? Say, why is this ? wherefore ? what should we do ? Ghost beckons HAMLET.
Стр. 58 - Now is it Rome indeed and room enough When there is in it but one only man. O! you and I have heard our fathers say, There was a Brutus once that would have brook'd Th' eternal devil to keep his state in Rome As easily as a king.
Стр. 40 - For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Стр. 244 - Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully; Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds...

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