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actors ANNOTATIONS bear beauty better bring called Cheer Commentators consider critic dead dear death Denmark Derry dirty doubt drink Drums Edition Enter Enter Hamlet Exeunt Exit face father fear follow GENTLEMEN Ghost give grace grave Gravedigger Guild GUILDENSTERN Hamlet hand he's head hold hope I'll intended is't JOHNSON keep kill King LADIES Laertes leave look Lord maid Marcellus meaning meet mind minute mother nature never night nose once Ophelia Osrick Palace pantomime passage play poet Polonius poor POPE Pray present Queen randy dandy reason Ri tol tiddy Rosen ROSENCRANTZ says Horatio SCENE sense Sings sitting soon STEEVENS suppose sure tell thee there's thing thou Tol de rol travesty true trumpet Tune WARBURTON watch what's whilst young
Pagina 86 - Shakespeare was godfather to one of Ben Jonson's children, and, after the christening, being in a deep study, Jonson came to cheer him up, and asked him why he was so melancholy. ' No faith, Ben,' says he, ' not I, but I have been considering a great while what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my godchild, and I have resolved at last.' ' I prythee, what ? ' says he. ' I' faith, Ben, I'll e'en give him a dozen good Latin (latten) spoons, and thou shalt translate them.
Pagina 71 - How science dwindles, and how volumes swell. How commentators each dark passage shun, And hold their farthing candle to the Sun.
Pagina 36 - And it's oh! dear! what can the matter be? Dear! dear! what can the matter be?
Pagina 104 - Hawkins is of opinion that tan-ta-ra-ra is not exactly imitative of the note of the trumpet, which is tan-ia-ra-ra-ra ; but Dr. Burney assures me that it was not until about the middle of the seventeenth century that this innovation in trumpetology was known, when it was introduced by one Hans Von Puffenblowenschwartz, trumpeter to the gallant Prince Rupert.
Pagina 23 - O, I wish it were my turn to-morrow! But, perchance, in that sleep we may dream, For we dream in our beds very often — Now, however capricious 't may seem, I've no relish for dreams in a coffin.
Pagina 3 - I'd give if a sure way I knew, How to thaw and resolve my stout flesh into dew ! How happy were I if no sin was self-slaughter ! For I'd then throw myself and my cares in the water. , Derry down, down, down, derry down. How weary, how profitless, — stale, and how flat, Seem to me all life's uses, its joys, and all that : This world is a garden unweeded...