The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, Volumen3Harper & Bros., 1839 |
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Página 29
... hath drank , he cracks his gorge , his sides , With violent hefts : 3 - I have drank , and seen the spider . Camillo was his help in this , his pander : - There is a plot against my life , my crown ; All's true that is mistrusted ...
... hath drank , he cracks his gorge , his sides , With violent hefts : 3 - I have drank , and seen the spider . Camillo was his help in this , his pander : - There is a plot against my life , my crown ; All's true that is mistrusted ...
Página 42
... Hath been beyond account . Leo . Twenty - three days They have been absent : ' Tis good speed ; foretels , The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear . Prepare you , lords ; Summon a session , that we may arraign Our ...
... Hath been beyond account . Leo . Twenty - three days They have been absent : ' Tis good speed ; foretels , The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear . Prepare you , lords ; Summon a session , that we may arraign Our ...
Página 43
... hath been to us , rare , pleasant , speedy ; The time is worth the use on't . Cleo . Great Apollo , ' Turn all to th ' best ! These proclamations , So forcing faults upon Hermione , I little like . Dion . The violent carriage of it Will ...
... hath been to us , rare , pleasant , speedy ; The time is worth the use on't . Cleo . Great Apollo , ' Turn all to th ' best ! These proclamations , So forcing faults upon Hermione , I little like . Dion . The violent carriage of it Will ...
Página 51
... Hath made thy person for the thrower - out Of my poor babe , according to thine oath , - Places remote enough are in Bohemia , There weep , and leave it crying ; and , for the babe Is counted lost for ever , Perdita , I pr'ythee , call ...
... Hath made thy person for the thrower - out Of my poor babe , according to thine oath , - Places remote enough are in Bohemia , There weep , and leave it crying ; and , for the babe Is counted lost for ever , Perdita , I pr'ythee , call ...
Página 55
... hath sent for me to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay , or I o'erween to think so ; which is another spur to my departure . Pol . As thou lovest me , Camillo , wipe not out the rest of thy services , by leaving me now : the ...
... hath sent for me to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay , or I o'erween to think so ; which is another spur to my departure . Pol . As thou lovest me , Camillo , wipe not out the rest of thy services , by leaving me now : the ...
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Términos y frases comunes
arms art thou Aumerle Banquo Bard Bardolph Bast blood Bohemia Boling Bolingbroke breath brother Camillo cousin crown dead death dost doth duke duke of Hereford earl England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Falstaff father Faulconbridge fear friends Gaunt give grace grief hand Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven Henry honour Host JOHNSON King John king Richard Lady land liege live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff majesty MALONE master means never night noble Northumberland peace Percy play Poins pr'ythee pray prince prince of Wales queen Re-enter Rich Rosse SCENE Shakespeare Shal shame Shep signifies sir John sir John Falstaff soul speak stand STEEVENS sweet sword tell thane thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought tongue true WARBURTON Witch word York
Pasajes populares
Página 64 - I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, And own no other function : each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
Página 471 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast, Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge. And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Página 470 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! O Sleep, O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down.
Página 307 - All murder'd; for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Página 418 - tis no matter ; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg ? no : or an arm ? no : or take away the grief of a wound ? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then ? no. What is honour ? a word. What is in that word honour ? what is that honour ? air. A trim reckoning ! Who hath it ? he that died o
Página 284 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...
Página 408 - I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus' And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Página 63 - Say there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Página 148 - 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 307 - Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence : throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while: I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, How can you say to me I am a king?