Opinião das pessoas - Escrever uma crítica
Não foram encontradas quaisquer críticas nos locais habituais.
Outras edições - Ver tudo
The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare. With a Glossary
Visualização integral - 1823
The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: With a Life of the Poet, and ...
Visualização integral - 1854
art thou beauty Ben Jonson better blood Brabantio breath CAPULET Cassio Cordelia Cyprus daughter dead dear death Denmark Desdemona dost thou doth Duke Emil Enter Ereunt Erit eyes fair Farewell father fear fool foul give Gloster grace grief Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven honour i'the Iago Juliet Kent king kiss knave lady Laer Laertes Lear lips live look lord love's Lucrece madam Mantua marry Mercutio Michael Cassio never night Nurse o'er Ophelia Othello play poison'd Polonius poor pray Priam Queen quoth Romeo SCENE Shakspeare shalt shame sorrow soul speak sweet sword tears tell thee thine thing thou art thou dost thou hast thought thyself to-night tongue true Tybalt villain weep wife word
Página 282 - And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them; for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered: that's villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
Página 281 - O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it outherods Herod : pray you, avoid it.
Página 273 - What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears.
Página 247 - I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
Página 59 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these? O! I have ta'en Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Página 100 - Ah, do not, when my heart hath scap'd this sorrow, Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe ; Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, To linger out a purpos'd overthrow. If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other petty griefs have done their spite, But in the onset come : so shall I taste At first the very worst of fortune's might ; And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compar'd with loss of thee will not seem so.
Página 147 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres, till they return.
Página 15 - This is the excellent foppery of the world ! that when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeit of our own behaviour), we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars : — as if we were villains by necessity ; fools, by heavenly compulsion ; knaves, thieves, and treachers, by spherical predominance ; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence ; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on.
Página 335 - Alas, poor Yorick ! — I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy : he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar...