Opinião das pessoas - Escrever uma crítica
Não foram encontradas quaisquer críticas nos locais habituais.
Outras edições - Ver tudo
Achilles Ajax Andronicus arms bear better blood bring brother Clot comes dead death deed Diomede doth Emperor Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear fight fons fool friends give Gods gone Greeks Guid hand hath head hear heart heav'n Hector himſelf hold honour I'll Italy keep King Lady Lavinia leave live look Lord Lucius Macb Macbeth Macd Marcus matter mean meet mind moſt mother muſt nature never night noble peace Poft poor pray Prince Queen Roman Rome ſay SCENE ſee ſelf ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſon ſpeak ſuch ſweet ſword tears tell thank thee Ther there's theſe thing thoſe thou thou art thought Titus tongue Troi Troilus true what's whoſe worthy
Página 191 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past : which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
Página 83 - Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange matters : — To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
Página 91 - What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
Página 85 - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off...
Página 111 - Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake : Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog...
Página 106 - 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.
Página 103 - Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale!
Página 127 - To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand: what's done cannot be undone: to bed, to bed, to bed.