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" She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way... "
King Lear: A Tragedy in Five Acts - Página 59
por William Shakespeare - 1808 - 78 páginas
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The Works of Shakspeare: From the Text of Johnson, Steevens, and Reed

William Shakespeare - 1825 - 896 páginas
...supp'd full with horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me. — ׀ 0 walking shadow ; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage. And then is heard no...
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The Family Shakspeare ... in which Nothing is Added to the Original Text ...

William Shakespeare - 1825
...thoughts, Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry? Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. Macb. She should have died hereafter; There would...dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow : a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no...
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The works of Samuel Johnson [ed. by F.P. Walesby].

Samuel Johnson - 1825
...SCENE V. Macbeth. Wherefore was that cry ? Seylon. The queen, my lord, is dead. Macbeth. She should (1) have died hereafter ; There would have been a time...To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of (2) recorded time ; And all our yesterdays...
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The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text by G. Steevens ..., Volume 4

William Shakespeare - 1826
...supp'd full with horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The queen, my lord, is...dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no...
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Plays of William Shakespeare, Volumes 17-18

William Shakespeare - 1826 - 960 páginas
...Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry ? Sfy. th.it virtue on it, madam. Par. The crow doth sing...sweetly as the Urk, When neither is attended ; and, this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have...
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Winter's tale. Comedy of errors. Macbeth. King John

William Shakespeare - 1826
...supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The queen, my lord, is...hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word2. — To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the...
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Merchant of Venice. As you like it. All's well that ends well. Taming of the ...

1828
...and make discovery Err in report of us." ACT VS 4. XVIII. " The queen, my lord, is dead. Млев. She should have died hereafter ; There would have...To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have...
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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from ..., Volume 1

William Shakespeare, George Steevens - 1829
...Direncss, familiar to my elaught'rous thoughts, Canuot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry ? Sry. The queen, my lord, is dead. Macb. She should have...To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have...
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The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, Volume 4

William Shakespeare, William Harness - 1830
...supp'd full with horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me. — Wherefore was that cry ? Sey. The queen, my lord,...To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have...
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The Dramatic Works, Volume 1

William Shakespeare - 1831
...horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaupht'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me — Wherefore was thit cry ? Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. Macb. She...dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no...
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