The Vale Shakespeare, Volume 27

Capa
Hacon & Ricketts, 1901
 

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Palavras e frases frequentes

Passagens conhecidas

Página xxiii - 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 As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Página xl - Remains in danger of her former tooth. But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly.
Página xvi - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries ' Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
Página x - My noble partner You greet with present grace, and great prediction Of noble having, and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal ; to me you speak not.
Página xx - As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' Like the poor cat i
Página xxvi - Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them, and smear The sleepy grooms with blood.
Página xiv - Implor'd your highness' pardon ; and set forth A deep repentance : nothing in his life Became him, like the leaving it ; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, As 'twere a careless trifle.
Página xvii - The effect and it ! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief ! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry ' Hold, hold !
Página xiii - New honours come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use. Macb. [Aside] Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

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