A glossary and etymological dictionary of obsolete and uncommon words

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W. Pickering, 1832

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Стр. 41 - All murder'd : for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp...
Стр. 260 - What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
Стр. 98 - I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, I know my course.
Стр. 65 - Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers ; I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree ; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry : 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.
Стр. 239 - On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object: can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France? or may we cram Within this wooden O the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt?
Стр. 200 - In following him, I follow but myself; Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end : For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In compliment extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at : I am not what I am.
Стр. 170 - Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid Tunes her nocturnal note.
Стр. 133 - Honour's a lease for lives to come, And cannot be extended from The legal tenant : 'tis a chattel Not to be forfeited in battle. If he that in the field is slain Be in the bed of honour lain, He that is beaten may be said To lie in honour's truckle-bed. For as we see th...
Стр. 286 - In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets...
Стр. 17 - ... in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear That you are worth your breeding : which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,* Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry ! England ! and Saint George ! [Exeunt . Alarum, and Chambers go off.

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