The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, with notes original and selected by S.W. Singer, and a life of the poet by C. Symmons, Volume 4 |
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Página 234
... Macd . Was it so late , friend , ere you went to bed , That you do lie so late ? Port . ' Faith , sir , we were carousing till the se- cond cock and drink , sir , is a great provoker of three things . Macd . What three things does drink ...
... Macd . Was it so late , friend , ere you went to bed , That you do lie so late ? Port . ' Faith , sir , we were carousing till the se- cond cock and drink , sir , is a great provoker of three things . Macd . What three things does drink ...
Página 235
... Macd . Is thy master stirring ? -- Our knocking has awak'd him ; here he comes . Enter MACBETH . Len . Good - morrow , noble sir ! Macb . Good - morrow , both ! Macd . Is the king stirring , worthy thane ? Macb . Not yet . Macd . He did ...
... Macd . Is thy master stirring ? -- Our knocking has awak'd him ; here he comes . Enter MACBETH . Len . Good - morrow , noble sir ! Macb . Good - morrow , both ! Macd . Is the king stirring , worthy thane ? Macb . Not yet . Macd . He did ...
Página 236
... Macd . Confusion now hath made his masterpiece ! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple , and stole thence The life o'the building . Macb . What is't you say ? the life ? Len . Mean you his majesty ? Macd ...
... Macd . Confusion now hath made his masterpiece ! Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope The Lord's anointed temple , and stole thence The life o'the building . Macb . What is't you say ? the life ? Len . Mean you his majesty ? Macd ...
Página 237
... Macd . Your royal father's murder'd . Mal . O , by whom ? Len . Those of his chamber , as it seem'd , had done't : Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood , So were their daggers , which , unwip'd , we found Upon their pillows ...
... Macd . Your royal father's murder'd . Mal . O , by whom ? Len . Those of his chamber , as it seem'd , had done't : Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood , So were their daggers , which , unwip'd , we found Upon their pillows ...
Página 238
... Macd Look to the lady . Mal . Help me hence , ho ! Why do we hold our tongues , That most may claim this argument for ours ? Don . What should be spoken , Here , where our fate , hid in an augre - hole , May rush , and seize us ? Let's ...
... Macd Look to the lady . Mal . Help me hence , ho ! Why do we hold our tongues , That most may claim this argument for ours ? Don . What should be spoken , Here , where our fate , hid in an augre - hole , May rush , and seize us ? Let's ...
Palavras e frases frequentes
Aege Antigonus Antipholus Arthur Autolycus Banquo Bast Bastard bear Ben Jonson blood Bohemia breath Camillo Const Cymbeline death deed didst dost doth Dromio Duke Duncan England Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes father Faulconbridge fear Fleance France give grief hand hath hear heart heaven Hecate Hermione Holinshed honour Hubert husband King Henry King Henry IV King John Lady LADY MACBETH Leon Leontes look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff Malone master means Menaechmi mistress murder night o'er old copy reads old play PANDULPH passage Paul Paulina peace Polixenes pray prince queen Rosse SCENE Shakspeare Shakspeare's Shep Sicilia sleep soul speak Steevens swear sweet tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought tongue villain wife Winter's Tale Witch word
Passagens conhecidas
Página 405 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Página 227 - 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 40 As this which now I draw.
Página 248 - Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his •worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.
Página 306 - 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.
Página 62 - When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh ! the doxy over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year; For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh ! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!
Página 72 - What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Página 255 - Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time, Ere human statute purged the gentle weal ; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear : 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 56 - I would, there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty; or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.
Página 70 - You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Página 217 - 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!