 | William Shakespeare - 1992 - 196 páginas
...How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't, ah fie, 'tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed; things rank...this Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, 140 That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth, Must... | |
 | William Shakespeare - 1992 - 132 páginas
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 | İnci Enginün - 1992 - 304 páginas
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 | Janet Adelman - 1992 - 396 páginas
...danger. Even Hamlet's attempt to imagine a protective father in the soliloquy returns him to this danger: So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to...heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth, Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on;... | |
 | Julia Reinhard Lupton, Kenneth Reinhard - 1993 - 290 páginas
...weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't, ah fie, 'tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed; things rank...heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth, Must I remember? Why she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on;... | |
 | William Shakespeare - 1994 - 264 páginas
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 | William Shakespeare - 1992 - 722 páginas
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 | Terrence Ortwein - 1994 - 100 páginas
...weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't, ah, fie, 'tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed. Things rank...this: But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two, Within a month — Let me not think on't; frailty, thy name is woman — A little month, or ere those... | |
 | William Shakespeare - 1995 - 136 páginas
...weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't, ah, fie, 'tis an unweeded garden That grows to seed. Things rank...heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth, Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on,... | |
 | 1996 - 264 páginas
...merely. That it should come to this The Camera moves with HAMLET down the hall. HAMLET (continuing) But two months dead — nay, not so much, not two...heaven Visit her face too roughly! Heaven and earth, Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on,... | |
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tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead: nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother... 
