¡°The¡± Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of Mr. Steeven's Last Edition, with a Selection of the Most Important Notes, 8±Ç

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Gerhard Fleischer the Younger, 1806

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258 ÆäÀÌÁö - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
127 ÆäÀÌÁö - This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it,) Like to a tenement, or pelting farm : England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds ; That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself...
55 ÆäÀÌÁö - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
156 ÆäÀÌÁö - And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
64 ÆäÀÌÁö - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
164 ÆäÀÌÁö - I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My...
61 ÆäÀÌÁö - For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert: drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angerly. Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to.
188 ÆäÀÌÁö - Richard ; no man cried, God save him; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience ; — That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
153 ÆäÀÌÁö - Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed king ; The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord.

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