The plays (poems) of Shakespeare, ed. by H. Staunton, the illustr. by J. Gilbert engr. by the brothers Dalziel, Parte170,Volumen3 |
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Página 8
Thy mother was a piece of virtue , and And thy no greater father . She said thou wast my daughter ; and thy father MIRA . More to know Was duke of Milan ; and his only heir Did never meddle with my thoughts .
Thy mother was a piece of virtue , and And thy no greater father . She said thou wast my daughter ; and thy father MIRA . More to know Was duke of Milan ; and his only heir Did never meddle with my thoughts .
Página 13
As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd Pro . If thou more murmur'st , I will rend an oak , With raven's feather from unwholesome fen , And peg thee in his knotty entrails , till Drop on you both ! a south - west blow on ye , Thou hast ...
As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd Pro . If thou more murmur'st , I will rend an oak , With raven's feather from unwholesome fen , And peg thee in his knotty entrails , till Drop on you both ! a south - west blow on ye , Thou hast ...
Página 45
This mis - shapen knave ,And - how , we know not — all clapp'd under His mother was a witch , and one so strong hatches , noises That could control the moon , make flows and ebbs , Where , but even now , with strange and several And ...
This mis - shapen knave ,And - how , we know not — all clapp'd under His mother was a witch , and one so strong hatches , noises That could control the moon , make flows and ebbs , Where , but even now , with strange and several And ...
Página 48
... in the night , there came As ricked dew as e'er my mother brush'd upon the toppe of our maine yarde and maine maste , a With raven's feather from unwholesome fen , certaine little light , much like unto the light of a little Drop on ...
... in the night , there came As ricked dew as e'er my mother brush'd upon the toppe of our maine yarde and maine maste , a With raven's feather from unwholesome fen , certaine little light , much like unto the light of a little Drop on ...
Página 57
Sir , this young fellow's mother could : Whereupon she grew round - wombed ; and had , indeed , sir , a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed . Do you smell a fault ? KENT . I cannot wish the fault undone , the issue of ...
Sir , this young fellow's mother could : Whereupon she grew round - wombed ; and had , indeed , sir , a son for her cradle ere she had a husband for her bed . Do you smell a fault ? KENT . I cannot wish the fault undone , the issue of ...
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Términos y frases comunes
answer Antony appear arms Attendants bear better blood body bring brother Brutus Cæsar Cassio cause Cleo comes daughter dead dear death dost doth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair fall father fear fire folio follow fool fortune friends give gods gone grace Hamlet hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hold honour I'll Iago keep king lady LEAR leave light live look lord mark matter means mind mother nature never night noble Old text omits once play poor pray present quarto queen reason Rome SCENE seen sense serve soul speak speech spirit stand sweet sword tears tell thee thine thing thou thou art thought tongue true turn unto wife
Pasajes populares
Página 438 - Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause ; and be silent that you may hear : believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
Página 362 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Página 344 - I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
Página 707 - No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate...
Página 361 - O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Página 116 - The weight of this sad time we must obey; Speak what we feel , not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we that are young Shall never see so much , nor live so long.
Página 294 - A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done. Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright : to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast : keep, then, the path...
Página 367 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Página 496 - 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. This is more strange Than such a murder is.
Página 765 - Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride, With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all-triumphant splendour on my brow; But out, alack ! he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath mask'd him from...