The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors. Macbeth. King John |
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Página 24
Turn then my freshest reputation to 50 • I am appointed him to murder you , ' I am
the person appointed to murder you . 51 i . e . to screw or move you to it . A vice in
Shakspeare's time meant any kind of winding screw . The vice of a clock was a ...
Turn then my freshest reputation to 50 • I am appointed him to murder you , ' I am
the person appointed to murder you . 51 i . e . to screw or move you to it . A vice in
Shakspeare's time meant any kind of winding screw . The vice of a clock was a ...
Página 207
Lady Macbeth , who of all the human beings is the most guilty participator in the
murder of the king , falls , through the horrors of her conscience , into a state of
incurable bodily and mental disease ; she dies , unlamented by her husband ,
with ...
Lady Macbeth , who of all the human beings is the most guilty participator in the
murder of the king , falls , through the horrors of her conscience , into a state of
incurable bodily and mental disease ; she dies , unlamented by her husband ,
with ...
Página 246
Macbeth does murder sleep , the innocent sleep ; Sleep , that knits up the ravelld
sleaves 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 ...
Macbeth does murder sleep , the innocent sleep ; Sleep , that knits up the ravelld
sleaves 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 ...
Página 252
Ring the alarum - bell : - Murder ! and treason ! Banquo , and Donalbain !
Malcolm ! awake ! Shake off this drowsy sleep , death's counterfeit , And look on
death itself ! -up , up , and The great doom's image ? Malcolm ! Banquo ! As from
your ...
Ring the alarum - bell : - Murder ! and treason ! Banquo , and Donalbain !
Malcolm ! awake ! Shake off this drowsy sleep , death's counterfeit , And look on
death itself ! -up , up , and The great doom's image ? Malcolm ! Banquo ! As from
your ...
Página 410
Murder , as hating what himself hath done , Doth lay it open , to urge on revenge .
Big . Or , when he doom'd this beauty to a grave , Found it , too precious - princely
for a grave . Sal . Sir Richard , what think you ? Have you beheld , Or have ...
Murder , as hating what himself hath done , Doth lay it open , to urge on revenge .
Big . Or , when he doom'd this beauty to a grave , Found it , too precious - princely
for a grave . Sal . Sir Richard , what think you ? Have you beheld , Or have ...
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Términos y frases comunes
appears arms Attendants Bast bear better blood born breath bring brother Camillo cause child comes dead death doth Dromio Duke England Enter Exeunt eyes face fair father fear France give gone hand hast hath head hear heart heaven Henry hold Holinshed honour hour husband I'll John keep king Lady land leave Leon live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd master means mind mother murder nature never night old copy once passage Paul peace play poor pray present prince queen reads Rosse SCENE seems sense Shakspeare sleep soul speak spirit stand stay sweet tell thee thine thing thou thou art thought tongue true wife Witch
Pasajes populares
Página 328 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Página 242 - The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still.
Página 436 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, 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.
Página 398 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Página 75 - Say there be ; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art ~\\ hich does mend nature, — change it rather ; but The art itself is nature.
Página 230 - The effect, and it. Come to .my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor ! Enter MACBETH.
Página 77 - What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Página 273 - Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time, Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear: the times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end: but now, they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools: This is more strange Than such a murder is.
Página 253 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time ; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality : All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
Página 236 - d yourself ? hath it slept since ? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and...