Selections from Shakspeare, by B. Oakley

Longman & Company, 1828 - 182 páginas

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Página 114 - LORENZO. How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, Becomes the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest
Página 127 - DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. — That strain again;—it had a dying fall; 0, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour. 0,
Página 119 - ISABELLA. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. Merciful heaven! Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle: — O, but man, proud man! Brest in a little brief authority,
Página 105 - PORTIA. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions. I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.
Página 31 - Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man. You cannot call it love; for, at your age, The hey-day in the blood is tame — it's humble, And waits upon the judgment. O shame! where is thy blush
Página 20 - Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man ! And be these juggling fiends no more believed, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope.
Página 104 - BASSANIO. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice: his reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you shall seek all day ere you find them; and, when you have them, they are not worth the search. ANTONIO.
Página 129 - VIOLA. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; And to do that well craves a kind of wit.
Página 43 - IAGO. Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that, which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. OTHELLO.
Página 111 - BASSANIO. I beseech you, Wrest once the law to your authority: To do a great right, do a little wrong; And curb this cruel devil of his will. PORTIA. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established: 'Twill be recorded for a precedent; And many an error, by

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