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Seite 155 - The Puritan hated bear-baiting, not because it gave pain to the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators.
Seite 455 - Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting-, That would not let me sleep : methought, I lay Worse than the mutines in the bilboes.* Rashly, And prais'd be rashness for it, — Let us know, Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well, When our deep plots do pall : and that should teach us. There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.* Hor.
Seite 420 - Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity ; And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover To entertain these fair, well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain And hate the idle pleasure of these days.
Seite 332 - Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.
Seite 295 - Truth may, perhaps, come to the price of a pearl that showeth best by day, but it will not rise to the price of a diamond or carbuncle that showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ^ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt that if there were taken out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?
Seite 110 - O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, By that sweet ornament which truth doth give ! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
Seite 381 - A very good piece of work, I assure you, and a merry. Now, good Peter Quince, call forth your actors by the scroll Masters, spread yourselves.
Seite 112 - God! that one might read the Book of Fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea : and, other times, to s'ee The beachy girdle of the ocean Too wide for Neptune's hips...
Seite 471 - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling, there the action lies In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults To give in evidence.