The Temple Shakespeare, Volum 29J.M. Dent and Company, 1895 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 17.
Pàgina 10
... Sweet saint , for charity , be not so curst . Anne . Foul devil , for God's sake , hence , and trouble us not ; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell , Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims . 50 If thou delight to view ...
... Sweet saint , for charity , be not so curst . Anne . Foul devil , for God's sake , hence , and trouble us not ; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell , Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims . 50 If thou delight to view ...
Pàgina 14
... sweet bosom . Anne . If I thought that , I tell thee , homicide , cheeks . These nails should rend that beauty from my Glou . These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck ; You should not blemish it , if I stood by : As all the ...
... sweet bosom . Anne . If I thought that , I tell thee , homicide , cheeks . These nails should rend that beauty from my Glou . These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck ; You should not blemish it , if I stood by : As all the ...
Pàgina 15
... sweet a place . Anne . Never hung poison on a fouler toad . Out of my sight ! thou dost infect my eyes . Glou . Thine eyes , sweet lady , have infected mine . Anne . Would they were basilisks , to strike thee dead ! Glou . I would they ...
... sweet a place . Anne . Never hung poison on a fouler toad . Out of my sight ! thou dost infect my eyes . Glou . Thine eyes , sweet lady , have infected mine . Anne . Would they were basilisks , to strike thee dead ! Glou . I would they ...
Pàgina 16
William Shakespeare. My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing words ; But , now thy beauty is proposed my fee , 170 My proud heart sues , and prompts my tongue to speak . [ She looks scornfully at him . Teach not thy lips such scorn ...
William Shakespeare. My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing words ; But , now thy beauty is proposed my fee , 170 My proud heart sues , and prompts my tongue to speak . [ She looks scornfully at him . Teach not thy lips such scorn ...
Pàgina 19
... sweet prince , And made her widow to a woful bed ? On me , whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 250 On me , that halt and am unshapen thus ? My dukedom to a beggarly denier , I do mistake my person all this while : Upon my life , she ...
... sweet prince , And made her widow to a woful bed ? On me , whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 250 On me , that halt and am unshapen thus ? My dukedom to a beggarly denier , I do mistake my person all this while : Upon my life , she ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
Anne arms Baynard's Castle blood Brak Brakenbury brother Buck Buckingham Cate Catesby Clar Clarence cousin curse daughter dead dear death deed Derby didst Dorset doth dream Duch Duchess of York Duke Duke of Gloucester Edward Eliz Exeunt Exit eyes farewell father fear Folio friends gentle George Stanley Glou God's grace gracious lord Grey hate hath hear heart heaven Henry VI holy horse house of Lancaster King Richard live look Lord Hastings Lord Stanley Madam majesty Margaret Mess Methought mother Murd murder noble Norfolk Omitted in Ff Omitted in Qq peace Plantagenet pray prince Quarto queen Ratcliff reading of Qq Rich Richard Ratcliff Richm Richmond Rivers royal Scene sleep sorrow soul sovereign speak Stan Stanley sweet sword tell tender thee thine thou hast thyself to-morrow Tower Tyrrel uncle unto weep wife William Brandon York
Passatges populars
Pàgina 159 - I am a villain : yet I lie, I am not. 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 direst degree ; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty!
Pàgina 1 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Pàgina 2 - And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute...
Pàgina 158 - Give me another horse, — bind up my wounds, — Have mercy, Jesu ! — Soft ; I did but dream. — 0 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. Is there a murderer here ? No ; — Yes ; I am : Then fly, — What, from myself?
Pàgina 159 - I shall, despair. — There is no creature loves me ; And, if I die, no soul will pity me : — Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself. Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent : and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.
Pàgina 37 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Pàgina 2 - 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; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, 1 See p.
Pàgina 38 - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling waked, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell, Such terrible impression made my dream.
Pàgina 2 - And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams, To set my brother Clarence and the king In deadly hate the one against the other...
Pàgina 159 - 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 direst degree ; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty ! guilty ! 200 I shall despair.