The Works of William Shakespeare: The Plays Edited from the Folio of MDCXXIII, with Various Readings from All the Editions and All the Commentators, Notes, Introductory Remarks, a Historical Sketch of the Text, an Account of the Rise and Progress of the English Drama, a Memoir of the Poet, and an Essay Upon His Genius, Volume 1
Little, Brown, 1868
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
appears bear beauty called century character copy corrections critics dead death desire doth edition English evidence expression eyes face fact fair father fear folio genius give given hand hath hear heart Henry instance interest John kind King known labors language leave less letter light lines live London look Lord matter means mind nature never night Note passage passed period person plays poet poor present printed probably published reason regard respect seems sense Shake Shakespeare shame sonnets soul speak speare stage stand story Stratford style sure sweet tell thee thine thing Thomas thou thought tion tongue traits true truth verse writing written
Page 202 - That do not do the thing they most do show, Who moving others, are themselves as stone, Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow; They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, And husband nature's riches from expense; They are the lords and owners of their faces, Others but stewards of their excellence. The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die; But if that flower with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity. For sweetest things turn sourest by their...
Page cclxviii - Then to the well-trod stage anon If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.
Page 204 - The forward violet thus did I chide : Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath ? The purple pride Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
Page 191 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Page 51 - The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutor'd lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours; what I have to do is yours; being part in all I have, devoted yours.
Page 224 - When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Page 208 - For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
Page 196 - ... barren tender of a poet's debt ; • And therefore have I slept in your report, That you yourself being extant well might show How far a modern quill doth come too short, Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. This silence for my sin you did impute, Which shall be most my glory, being dumb ; For I impair not beauty being mute, • When others would give life and bring a tomb. There lives more life in one of your fair eyes Than both your poets can in praise devise.