The Works of Shakespeare, Volume 3 |
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Página 4
... d O , my heart bleeds ' T he very virtue of compassion in thee , To think othe
teen that I have turn ' d you to , I have with such provision in mine art Which is
from my remembrance ! Please you , So enfely order ' d , that there is no soul _ ...
... d O , my heart bleeds ' T he very virtue of compassion in thee , To think othe
teen that I have turn ' d you to , I have with such provision in mine art Which is
from my remembrance ! Please you , So enfely order ' d , that there is no soul _ ...
Página 6
Heigh , my hearts ! cheerly , cheerly , Boats . Work you , then . my hearts ! yare ,
yare ! Take in the topsail ! Ant . Hang , cur , hang ! you whoreson , insolent Tend
to the master ' s whistle ! [ Exeunt Mariners . ] noise - maker , we are less afraid to
...
Heigh , my hearts ! cheerly , cheerly , Boats . Work you , then . my hearts ! yare ,
yare ! Take in the topsail ! Ant . Hang , cur , hang ! you whoreson , insolent Tend
to the master ' s whistle ! [ Exeunt Mariners . ] noise - maker , we are less afraid to
...
Página 7
Be collected ; Who had , no doubt , some noble creatures * in her , No more
amazement : tell your piteous heart Dash ' d all to pieces . O , the cry did knock
There ' s no harm done . Against my very heart ! Poor souls , they perish ' d !
MIRA .
Be collected ; Who had , no doubt , some noble creatures * in her , No more
amazement : tell your piteous heart Dash ' d all to pieces . O , the cry did knock
There ' s no harm done . Against my very heart ! Poor souls , they perish ' d !
MIRA .
Página 58
In my true heart Cornwall , I find she names my very deed of love ; And you , our
no less loving son of Albany , Only she comes too short , that I profess We have
this hour a constant will to publish Myself an enemy to all other joys , Our ...
In my true heart Cornwall , I find she names my very deed of love ; And you , our
no less loving son of Albany , Only she comes too short , that I profess We have
this hour a constant will to publish Myself an enemy to all other joys , Our ...
Página 60
Her father ' s heart from her ! - Cal ] France . [ Laying his hand on his sword . Who
stirs ? AlB . CORN . Dear sir , forbear . Call Burgundy . — Cornwall and Albany ,
KENT . Kill thy physician , and the fee bestow With my two daughters ' dowers ...
Her father ' s heart from her ! - Cal ] France . [ Laying his hand on his sword . Who
stirs ? AlB . CORN . Dear sir , forbear . Call Burgundy . — Cornwall and Albany ,
KENT . Kill thy physician , and the fee bestow With my two daughters ' dowers ...
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Palavras e frases frequentes
Achilles answer Antony appear arms Attendants bear better blood body bring brother Brutus Cæsar Cassio cause CLEO comes daughter dead dear death doth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair fall father fear folio follow fool fortune friends give gods gone Hamlet hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hold honour I'll Iago keep king lady LEAR leave light live look lord mark matter means mind mother nature never night noble Old text omits once play poor pray present quarto queen reason Rome SCENE seen sense SERV soul speak speech spirit stand strange sweet sword tears tell thee thing thou thought true turn unto wife
Passagens conhecidas
Página 734 - My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun ; Coral is far more red than her lips' red : If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun ; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks ; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, — yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound ; I grant I never saw a goddess go, — My mistress,...
Página 476 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Página 722 - But you like none, none you, for constant heart. LIV 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. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, Die to themselves....
Página 468 - The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools. This is more strange Than such a murder is.
Página 346 - I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil : and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, — As he is very potent with such spirits, — Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: — the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Página 20 - A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver. There would this monster make a man. Any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o
Página 33 - Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on ; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
Página 324 - tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly.
Página 453 - Come you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it!
Página 264 - And posts, like the commandment of a king, Sans check, to good and bad : but when the planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What plagues, and what portents, what mutiny, What raging of the sea, shaking of earth, Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixure ! O!
Informação bibliográfica
| Título | The Works of Shakespeare, Volume 3 The Works of Shakespeare, William Shakespeare |
| Autor | William Shakespeare |
| Editor | Howard Staunton |
| Ilustrado por | John Gilbert, Edward Dalziel, George Dalziel |
| Editora | Routledge, 1864 |
| Exportar citação | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |