 | William Shakespeare - 2001 - 656 páginas
...my betters I suggest that, in Hamlet, the context hardly seems to warrant this interpretation; eg, 'who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under...No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know ACT I, SC. iv.] A man cannot fteale,... | |
 | Jan H. Blits - 2001 - 420 páginas
...twice punning on his own word "bare" [also 3.2.70], while echoing the Ghost's exhortation [1.5.81]): Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a...traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? (3.1.76-82) No one would bear... | |
 | William Shakespeare - 2001 - 304 páginas
...of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his 'Quietus' make With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life,...traveller returns - puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards... | |
 | 潘漢光, 黃兆傑 - 2001 - 90 páginas
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 | Keith Sanger - 2002 - 113 páginas
[ O conteúdo desta página está restrito ] | |
 | William Shakespeare - 2002 - 244 páginas
...of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of th' unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus...No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards... | |
 | John O. Whitney, Tina Packer - 2002 - 321 páginas
...dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th'unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With...traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards... | |
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The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? 
