New-Shakespeareana, Volumi 1-2

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Unionist-Gazette Association., 1902
 

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Pagina 78 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Pagina 77 - tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners ; so that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.
Pagina 77 - If the balance of our lives had not one scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions...
Pagina 12 - His mind and hand went together ; and what he thought, he uttered with that easiness, that we have scarce received from him a blot in his papers.
Pagina 24 - Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs, The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, <*> The traces of the smallest spider's web, The collars of the moonshine's...
Pagina 91 - ... ordain'd otherwise, and he by death departed from that right, we pray you do not envie his friends the office of their care and paine...
Pagina 79 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod...
Pagina 51 - 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...
Pagina 14 - Yes, trust them not: for there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that with his tiger's heart, wrapt in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.
Pagina 14 - I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, " Would he had blotted a thousand," which they thought a malevolent speech.

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