The plays and poems of William Shakespeare, ed. by J.P. Collier, Volumen8 |
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Página 17
... dead , and the pride of his youth muffled in these dark clouds of oppression . Hus . Humph ! humph ! humph ! Mast . O ! you have killed the towardest hope of all our University wherefore , without repentance and amends , expect ...
... dead , and the pride of his youth muffled in these dark clouds of oppression . Hus . Humph ! humph ! humph ! Mast . O ! you have killed the towardest hope of all our University wherefore , without repentance and amends , expect ...
Página 24
... dead mother . Wife . O ! O ! Mast . Surgeons , surgeons ! she recovers life.- One of his men , all faint and bloodied . First Ser . Follow ! our murderous master has took horse To kill the child at nurse . O follow quickly . Mast . I am ...
... dead mother . Wife . O ! O ! Mast . Surgeons , surgeons ! she recovers life.- One of his men , all faint and bloodied . First Ser . Follow ! our murderous master has took horse To kill the child at nurse . O follow quickly . Mast . I am ...
Página 29
... dead ? Wife . Tut ! far greater wounds did my breast feel : Unkindness strikes a deeper wound than steel . You have been still unkind to me . Hus . ' Faith , so I think I have : I did my murders roughly , out of hand , Desperate and ...
... dead ? Wife . Tut ! far greater wounds did my breast feel : Unkindness strikes a deeper wound than steel . You have been still unkind to me . Hus . ' Faith , so I think I have : I did my murders roughly , out of hand , Desperate and ...
Página 30
... dead Children are laid out . Hus . What sight is yonder ? Wife . O ! our two bleeding boys , Laid forth upon the threshold . Hus . Here's weight enough to make a heart - string crack . O , were it lawful that your pretty souls Might ...
... dead Children are laid out . Hus . What sight is yonder ? Wife . O ! our two bleeding boys , Laid forth upon the threshold . Hus . Here's weight enough to make a heart - string crack . O , were it lawful that your pretty souls Might ...
Página 31
... dead Children . My soul is bloodied , well may my lips be so . Farewell , dear wife : now , thou and I must part ; I of thy wrongs repent me with my heart . Wife . O , stay ! thou shalt not go . [ Kissing her . Hus . That's but in vain ...
... dead Children . My soul is bloodied , well may my lips be so . Farewell , dear wife : now , thou and I must part ; I of thy wrongs repent me with my heart . Wife . O , stay ! thou shalt not go . [ Kissing her . Hus . That's but in vain ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Amadine answer arms bear beauty better blood breast breath cause Caverley cheeks child comes dead dear death deeds delight desire dost doth Enter eyes face fair fall false father fear fire foul gentle give grace grief hand hast hate hath head hear heart heaven hold honour hope hour husband I'll keep kill kind king kiss leave lies light lips live look lord love's Lucrece master mind Mouse never night once pity pleasure poor praise quoth rest Segasto shame shepherd sight sometime sorrow soul speak stand sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou art thou shalt thought thyself tongue true truth unto wife wilt woods worth wound wrong youth
Pasajes populares
Página 202 - When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
Página 175 - Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate. The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting, And for that riches where is my deserving?
Página 16 - d, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide, High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong, Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look, what a horse should have he did not lack, Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Página 145 - 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...
Página 163 - As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill. Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, Save that, to die, I leave...
Página 184 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now.
Página 228 - Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
Página 155 - So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since, seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
Página 156 - The one doth shadow of your beauty show, The other as your bounty doth appear; And you in every blessed shape we know.
Página 128 - Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry ? Or who is he so fond will be the tomb Of his self-love, to stop posterity ? Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime ; So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.