Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario
No encontramos ningún comentario en los lugares habituales.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
The Works of William Shakespeare: The Text Regulated by the Folio ..., Volumen6
Vista de fragmentos - 1859
Anne arms bear better blood body brother Buck Buckingham Cade cardinal cause Clarence Clifford comes crown dead death doth duke earl Edward Eliz enemies England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear fight folio follow Forces France friends Gent gentle give Gloster grace hand hast hath head hear heart heaven Henry highness honour hope I'll John keep king King HENRY lady leave live look lord madam March Margaret master mean mind mother never noble once peace play poor pray prince quartos queen rest Rich Richard royal SCENE soldiers Somerset soul speak stand stay Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tears tell thank thee thine thou thought Tower true unto Warwick wife York young
Página 205 - Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely ! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings, that fear their subjects
Página 265 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Página 265 - And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days. I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Página 357 - Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What! do I fear myself? there's none else by Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes; I am: Then fly: what! from myself? Great reason why; Lest I revenge. What! myself upon myself? Alack! I love myself. Wherefore? for any good That I myself have done unto myself? O! no: alas! I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself.
Página 219 - That rends the thorns, and is rent with the thorns, Seeking a way, and straying from the way, Not knowing how to find the open air, But toiling desperately to find it out, Torment myself to catch the English crown : And from that torment I will free myself, Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile, And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Página 410 - Orpheus with his lute made trees. And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung ; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art : Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.
Página 145 - Be brave then ; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be, in England, seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny : the threehooped pot shall have ten hoops ; and I will make it felony to drink small beer : all the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfry go to grass.
Página 425 - So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell ! a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him...
Página 254 - Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me!
Página 358 - Fool, of thyself speak well : — Fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree ; Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree ; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, — Guilty ! guilty ! I shall, despair.