The Plays, Volumen4Otridge & Rackham, 1824 |
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Página 20
... Pray now What colour are your eye - brows ? 1 Lady . Blue , my lord . Mam . Nay , that's a mock : I have seen a lady's nose That has been blue , but not her eye - brows . 2 Lady . Hark ye : The queen , your mother rounds apace : we ...
... Pray now What colour are your eye - brows ? 1 Lady . Blue , my lord . Mam . Nay , that's a mock : I have seen a lady's nose That has been blue , but not her eye - brows . 2 Lady . Hark ye : The queen , your mother rounds apace : we ...
Página 27
... Pray you , to see her women ? any of them ? Emilia ? Keep . So please you , madam , to put Apart these your attendants , I shall bring Emilia forth . Paul . Withdraw yourselves . Keep . I pray now , call her . [ Exeunt Attend . And ...
... Pray you , to see her women ? any of them ? Emilia ? Keep . So please you , madam , to put Apart these your attendants , I shall bring Emilia forth . Paul . Withdraw yourselves . Keep . I pray now , call her . [ Exeunt Attend . And ...
Página 28
... Pray you , Emilia , Commend my best obedience to the queen ; If she dares trust me with her little babe , I'll show't the king , and undertake to be Her advocate to th ' loudest : We do not know How he may soften at the sight o ' the ...
... Pray you , Emilia , Commend my best obedience to the queen ; If she dares trust me with her little babe , I'll show't the king , and undertake to be Her advocate to th ' loudest : We do not know How he may soften at the sight o ' the ...
Página 34
... pray you , do not push me ; I'll be gone . Look to your babe , my lord ; ' tis yours : Jove send her A better guiding spirit ! -What need these hands ? You that are thus so tender o'er his follies , Will never do him good , not one of ...
... pray you , do not push me ; I'll be gone . Look to your babe , my lord ; ' tis yours : Jove send her A better guiding spirit ! -What need these hands ? You that are thus so tender o'er his follies , Will never do him good , not one of ...
Página 50
... pray thee , good Camillo , be no more im- portunate ; ' tis a sickness denying thee any thing ; a death , to grant this . Cam . It is fifteen years , since I saw my country : though I have , for the most part , been aired abroad , I ...
... pray thee , good Camillo , be no more im- portunate ; ' tis a sickness denying thee any thing ; a death , to grant this . Cam . It is fifteen years , since I saw my country : though I have , for the most part , been aired abroad , I ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Antigonus Antipholus Arth Arthur attendants Autolycus Banquo Bast Bastard bear blood Bohemia breath brother Camillo Cawdor chain Cleomenes Const dead death deed didst Doct doth Dromio Duke England Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes fair father Faulconbridge fear Fleance France gentle give grace hand hath hear heart heaven Hermione honour Hubert husband i'the James Gurney King John Lady Lady Macbeth Leon Leontes liege look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff majesty master Melun mistress never noble o'er o'the Pand Pandulph Paul Paulina peace poison'd Polixenes poor pr'ythee pray prince queen Rosse SCENE shame Shep Sicilia Siward sleep soul speak swear sweet Syracusan Syracuse tell thane thee There's thine things thou art thou hast thought thyself tongue villain wife Witch
Pasajes populares
Página 59 - O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength, — a malady Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips, and The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one!
Página 231 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Página 181 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet 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 marshal'st me the way that I was going, And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth...
Página 209 - Witch. 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, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble ; Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Página 323 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Página 199 - 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 ! — Light thickens ; and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood : Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
Página 170 - Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature ? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings : My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man, that function Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is, But what is not.
Página 286 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form: Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Página 178 - 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: And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast...
Página 223 - Himself best knows : but strangely-visited people All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures; Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy prayers ; and 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction.