The Plays and Poems of Shakespeare,: According to the Improved Text of Edmund Malone, Including the Latest Revisions, : with a Life, Glossarial Notes, an Index, and One Hundred and Seventy Illustrations, from Designs by English Artists, Volumen6

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Henry G. Bohn, 1844
 

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Página 30 - Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange matters :' — To beguile the time, Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
Página 335 - 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.
Página 42 - Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, 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.
Página 29 - Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose...
Página 302 - And nothing can we call our own, but death ; And that small model of the barren earth, "Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings...
Página 268 - England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds: That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Página 40 - That which hath made them drunk, hath made me bold : What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire : — Hark !— Peace ! It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good-night.
Página 36 - That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only : when in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell?
Página 35 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me : I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Página 232 - Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.

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