The Works of Shakespeare: the Text Carefully Restored According to the First Editions: King Richard III; King Henry VIII; Troilus and Cressida

Forside
 

Hva folk mener - Skriv en omtale

Vi har ikke funnet noen omtaler på noen av de vanlige stedene.

Andre utgaver - Vis alle

Vanlige uttrykk og setninger

Populære avsnitt

Side 301 - This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes
Side 22 - Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them — Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace...
Side 175 - What! do I fear myself? there's none else by Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes; I am: Then fly: what! from myself? Great reason why; Lest I revenge. What! myself upon myself? Alack! I love myself. Wherefore? for any good That I myself have done unto myself? O! no: alas! I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself.
Side 451 - I do not strain at the position, — It is familiar, — but at the author's drift : Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves, That no man is the lord of any thing, (Though in and of him there be much consisting, ) Till he communicate his parts to others...
Side 55 - Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears ! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea...
Side 175 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder, in the direst degree; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty!
Side 277 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung : as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Side 300 - So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Side 22 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Side 198 - Well, well, Master Kingston," quoth he, "I see the matter against me how it is framed; but if I had served God as diligently as I have done the king, he would not have given me over in my grey hairs.

Bibliografisk informasjon