The Plays of William Shakspeare: In Fifteen Volumes. With the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators. To which are Added Notes

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Page 385 - with but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundlefs as the fea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite. I hear fome noife within; Dear love, adieu ! Anon, good nurfe !—Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again. [Exit.
Page 236 - For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia. COR. And fo I am, I am. LEAR. Be your tears wet? Yes, 'faith. I pray, If you have poifon for me, I will drink it. I know, you do not love me; for your
Page 381 - who thou art, If any of my kinfmen find thee here. ROM. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch thefe walls ; * For ftony limits cannot hold love out: And what love can do, that dares love attempt ; Therefore thy kinfmen are no let to me.' JUL. If they do fee thee, they will murder thee.
Page 52 - From the fix'd place ; drew from my heart all love, And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear! Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, And thy dear judgement out !—Go, go, my people.* ALB. My lord, I am guiltlefs,' as I am ignorant Of what hath mov'd you. 4
Page 355 - of nothing. ROM. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace ; MER. True, I talk of dreams; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantafy ; Which is as thin of fubftance as the air; And more inconftant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bofom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Page 234 - How does my royal lord ? How fares your majefty ? LEAR. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave :— Thou art a foul in blifs ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do fcald like molten lead.
Page 392 - The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ; * What is her burying grave, that is her womb : And from her womb children of divers kind We fucking on her natural bofom find ; Many for many virtues excellent, None but for fome, and yet all different. O, mickle is the powerful grace, 1 that lies In herbs, plants,
Page 139 - LEAR. Now, all the plagues that in the pendulous air Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters ! KENT. He hath no daughters, fir. LEAR. Death, traitor ! nothing could have fubdu'd nature To fuch a lownefs, but his unkind daughters.— Is it the faihion, that difcarded fathers Should have thus little mercy on their
Page 128 - Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother' o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That hail within thee undivulged crimes, Unwhipp'd of juftice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand; Thou perjur'd, and thou fimular man of virtue That art inceftuous : Caitiff, to pieces
Page 207 - This world I do renounce ; and, in your fights, Shake patiently my great affliction off: If I could bear it longer, and not fall To quarrel with your great oppofelefs wills, My fnuff, and loathed part of nature, fhould Burn itfelf out. If Edgar live, O, blefs him !— Now, fellow, fare thee well.

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