Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale, Volum 2

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Ginn c1908., 1872 - 196 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 28 - 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.
Pàgina 57 - God save him !" No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, — That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Pàgina 88 - twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit : to die, is to be a counterfeit ; for he is but the counterfeit of a man who hath not the life of a man : but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed.
Pàgina 114 - I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness ; Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
Pàgina 415 - Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. — Methinks, I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come: Now to that name my courage prove my title ! I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to baser life.
Pàgina 167 - O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. 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.
Pàgina 338 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries ' Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
Pàgina 285 - I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench, I know my course. The spirit that I have seen May be the devil : and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps Out of my weakness and my melancholy, — As he is very potent with such spirits, — Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds More relative than this: — the play's the thing Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Pàgina 230 - His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, 'This was a man!
Pàgina 196 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues.

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