The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors. Macbeth. King John. Richard II. Henry IV, pt. 1
Hilliard, Gray,, 1839
Så tycker andra - Skriv en recension
Vi kunde inte hitta några recensioner.
Andra upplagor - Visa alla
The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors ...
Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1839
Vanliga ord och fraser
answer arms Attendants Bast bear better blood Boling born breath bring brother comes cousin crown dead death dost doth duke earth England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith father fear follow France friends give grace grief hand hast hath head hear heart Heaven Henry hold Holinshed honor horse hour I'll John keep king Lady land leave Leon live look lord Macb Macbeth master means meet nature never night noble old copy once peace Percy play poor pray present prince queen reads rest Rich Richard Rosse SCENE seems Shakspeare soul speak stand stay sweet tell thee thine thing thou art thought tongue true wife Witch York young
Sida 264 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Sida 382 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...
Sida 408 - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp...
Sida 206 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for from this instant There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys: renown and grace is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
Sida 195 - Like the poor cat i' the adage? MACB. Prithee, peace. I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. LADY M. What beast was't, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both. They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender...
Sida 198 - Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still.
Sida 194 - Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other.
Sida 253 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff", Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Sida 198 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Sida 552 - Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou shrunk ! When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; But now, two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough : — this earth, that bears thee dead, Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.