Shakespeare's King Richard III

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J.M. Dent & Sons, Ld., 1889 - 152 pages
 

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Page 12 - Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now — instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries — He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
Page 30 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillness, and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...
Page 30 - Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? Myself? There's none else by. Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No— yes, I am. Then fly. What, from myself?
Page 30 - I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me ; And if I die, no soul shall pity me : — Nay, wherefore should they? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself.
Page 12 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; And all the clouds, that lower'd upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Page 11 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?
Page 28 - What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted ? Thrice is he armed, that hath his quarrel just ; And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
Page 13 - And so I was, which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me!
Page 13 - Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Page 30 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.

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