Beauties of Shakespeare Cb

Eighteenth Century Shakespeare Volume 9 - 2 Volumes

William Dodd

• Éditeur: Routledge
• Année: 2013
• ISBN:
  9781134570942
• Édition: 1
• Sujet: History
• Sous-sujet: World History

First published in 2005. This includes two volumes of a series on Eighteenth Century writings on Shakespeare. This text looks at the 'beauties of Shakepsear' (first edition 1752) and includes a general index and explanatory notes and passages from ancient and modern authors. This volume includes excerpts from the Comedies, the Tragedies and the Historical plays.

⁴⁴ The First Part of HENRY VI.

ACT I. SCENE VI.

GLORY.

(⁴⁵) GLORY is like a circle in the water ;

Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself,

Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought,

ACT V. SCENE VIII.

MARRIAGE.

For marriage is a matter of more worth,

Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

For what is wedlock forced but a hell,

An age of Discord and continual strife ?

Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss,

And is a pattern of celestial peace.

Second Part of HENRY VI.

ACT I. SCENE IV.

A resolv’d ambitious Woman.

(⁴⁶) FOLLOW I must, I cannot go before,

While Glo’ster bears this base and humble mind.

Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,

I wou’d remove these tedious stumbling-blocks ;

And smooth my way upon their headless necks.

And being a woman, I will not be slack

To play my part in fortune’s pageant.

ACT II. SCENE II.

The Lord ever to be remember’d.

Let never day or night unhallow’d pass,

But still remember what the Lord hath done.

SCENE VII. Eleanor to the Duke of Glo’ster, when doing Penance.

For whilst I think I am thy married wife ;

And thou a prince, protector of this land ;

Methinks, I should not thus be led along,

(⁴⁷) Mail’d up in shame, with papers on my back ;

And follow’d with a rabble, that rejoice

To see my tears, and hear my deep-fetch’d groans,

The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet,

And when I start, the cruel people laugh :

And bid me be advised how I tread.

ACT III. SCENE I.

Silent Resentment deepest.

(⁴⁸) Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep ;

And in his simple shew he harbours treason.

SCENE IV. A guilty Countenance.

Upon thy eye-balls murd’rous tyranny

Sits in grim majesty to fright the world.

Description of a murder’d Person.

See how the blood is settled in his face !

Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,

Of ashy semblance, meager, pale and blood-less ; ]

(⁴⁹) Being all descended to the lab’ring heart,

Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,

Attracts the same for aidance ’gainst the enemy ;

Which with the heart there cools, and ne’er returneth

To blush and beautify the cheek again.

But see his face is black, and full of blood ;

His eye-balls farther out, than when he liv’d ;

Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man ;

His hair up-rear’d, his nostrils stretch’d with struggling ;

His hands abroad display’d, as one that graspt

And tugg’d for life ; and was by strength subdu’d.

Look on the sheets ; his hair, you see is sticking ;

His well-proportion’d beard, made rough and rugged,

Like to the summer’s corn by tempest lodg’d :

It cannot be, but he was murder’d here ;

The least of all these signs were probable.

SCENE VII. A good Conscience.

(⁵⁰) What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted ?

Thrice is he arm’d, that hath his quarrel just ;

And he but naked (though lock’d up in steel)

Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

SCENE VIII Remorseless Hatred.

A Plague upon ’em ! wherefore should I curse them ;

Would curses kill, as doth the Mandrake’s groan,

I would invent as bitter searching terms,

As curst, as harsh, as horrible to hear,

Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth,

With full as many signs of deadly hate,

(⁵¹) As lean-fac’d envy in her loathsome cave.

My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words,

Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten slint,

Mine hair be fixt on end like one distract :

Ay, ev’ry joint should seem to curse and ban,

And even now, my burthen’d heart would break,

Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink !

Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste !

Their sweetest shade, a grove of Cypress trees !

Their sweetest prospec...