Hamlet: Edited by Horace Howard Furness, Volumen4

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J.B. Lippincott, 1877

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Página 139 - ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord! we know what we are, but know not what we may be.
Página 174 - I have utter'd : bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word, which madness Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks; It will but skin and film the ulcerous place, Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, Infects unseen.
Página 198 - The observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh...
Página 224 - 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.
Página 171 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Página 288 - gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! Ah, fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely.
Página 217 - I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
Página 178 - ... the wrist and held me hard ; Then goes he to the length of all his arm, And with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face As he would draw it.
Página 163 - You that look pale and tremble at this chance, That are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time, (as this fell sergeant, death, Is strict in his arrest,) O, I could tell you, — But let it be : — Horatio, I am dead ; Thou liv'st ; report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied.
Página 145 - Of thinking too precisely on th' event, A thought which quarter'd hath but one part wisdom, And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say This thing's to do...

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