Dentro del libro

Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario

No encontramos ningún comentario en los lugares habituales.

Páginas seleccionadas

Otras ediciones - Ver todas

Términos y frases comunes

Pasajes populares

Página 103 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...
Página 70 - It will have blood, they say ; blood will have blood : Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak ; Augurs, and understood relations, have By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth The secret'st man of blood.
Página 207 - In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being seasoned with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? In religion, What damned error, but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text...
Página 169 - And betimes I will, to the weird sisters : More shall they speak ; for now I am bent to know, By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good, All causes shall give way : I am in blood Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er : Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.
Página 140 - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, From wandering on a foreign strand...
Página 156 - Come, seeling* night. Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale!
Página 103 - Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie Without a monument !) bring thee all this ; Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are none, To winter-ground thy corse.
Página 63 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder?
Página 1 - GOD, release our dying sister ! Beauteous blight hath sadly kiss'd her : Whiter than the wild, white roses, Famine in her face discloses Mute submission, patience holy, Passing fair! but passing slowly. Though she said, " You know I'm dying," In her heart green trees are sighing ; Not of them hath pain bereft her, In the city, where we left her : " Bring," she said, " a hedgeside blossom ! " Love shall lay it on her bosom.
Página 172 - I ever heard such a thing even whispered; and I am as certain as I am of my own existence, that during the whole of that period, not one act of a corrupt nature had ever been done by any one member of either House.

Información bibliográfica