The spirit of the plays of Shakspeare: exhibited in a series of outline plates illustrative of the story of each play, Volumen2

T. Cadell, Strand (bookseller to the Royal Academy); C. and J. Rivington, ... Baldwin, Cradock, and Joy, ... and J. Booker, ... To be had also of Mr. F. Howard, no. 5, Newman-Street, Oxford-Street., 1828

Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario

No encontramos ningún comentario en los lugares habituales.

Otras ediciones - Ver todas

Términos y frases comunes

Pasajes populares

Página 7 - You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them, and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. Macb. I'll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done Look on't again I dare not.
Página 7 - How is't with me, when every noise appals me ? What hands are here ? ha ! they pluck out mine eyes ! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand ? No ; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine...
Página 11 - Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are : Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.
Página 13 - What, will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that : you mar all with this starting.
Página 10 - Sit, worthy friends : — my lord is often thus, And hath been from his youth : pray you, keep seat ; The fit is momentary ; upon a...
Página 6 - One cried, God bless us ! and Amen the other, As* they had seen me, with these hangman's hands. Listening their fear, I could not say Amen, When they did say God bless us.
Página 5 - Tis unnatural, Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last A falcon towering in her pride of place Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd.
Página 6 - Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M. What do you mean? Macb. Still it cried, "Sleep no more!
Página 10 - Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! let the earth hide thee ! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with.
Página 13 - All that glisters is not gold ; Often have you heard that told : Many a man his life hath sold, But my outside to behold : Gilded tombs do worms infold4.

Información bibliográfica