The Reading of Shakespeare

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1906 - 210 páginas
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Página 50 - This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea...
Página 194 - I conjure you, by that which you profess, Howe'er you come to know it, answer me: Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches; though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up; Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down; Though castles topple on their warders...
Página 148 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that The winds were love-sick with them : the oars were silver ; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Página 101 - But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain; But, with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices.
Página 59 - Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England ; and one of them is fat and grows old: God help the while ! a bad world, I say.
Página 95 - If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it ; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ; — it had a dying fall : O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour.
Página 203 - Good my lord , You have begot me, bred me, lov'd me: I Return those duties back as are right fit, Obey you, love you, and most honour you. Why have my sisters husbands , if they say They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed, That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry Half my love with him , half my care and duty : Sure , 1 shall never marry like my sisters , To love my father all.
Página 168 - There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. Enter Musicians. Come, ho ! and wake Diana with a hymn : With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear And draw her home with music.
Página 197 - tis time to do't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Página 171 - Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown ; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread...

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