King Richard IIIWilliam Heinemann, 1904 - 388 pagini |
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Pagina 15
... sword at him ; Nor when thy warlike father , like a child , Told the sad story of my father's death , And twenty times made pause to sob and weep , That all the standers - by had wet their cheeks , Like trees bedash'd with rain : in ...
... sword at him ; Nor when thy warlike father , like a child , Told the sad story of my father's death , And twenty times made pause to sob and weep , That all the standers - by had wet their cheeks , Like trees bedash'd with rain : in ...
Pagina 16
... sword ; Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom , And let the soul forth that adoreth thee , I lay it naked to the deadly stroke , And humbly beg the death upon my knee . [ He lays his breast open : she offers at it with his sword ...
... sword ; Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom , And let the soul forth that adoreth thee , I lay it naked to the deadly stroke , And humbly beg the death upon my knee . [ He lays his breast open : she offers at it with his sword ...
Pagina 17
... sword . Glou . Say , then , my peace is made . Anne . That shall you know hereafter . Glou . But shall I live in hope ? Anne . All men , I hope , live so . Glou . Vouchsafe to wear this ring . Anne . To take is not to give . Glou . Look ...
... sword . Glou . Say , then , my peace is made . Anne . That shall you know hereafter . Glou . But shall I live in hope ? Anne . All men , I hope , live so . Glou . Vouchsafe to wear this ring . Anne . To take is not to give . Glou . Look ...
Pagina 42
... Murd . Spoke like a tall fellow that respects his reputation . Come , shall we to this gear ? First Murd . Take him over the costard with the 150 hilts of thy sword , and then we will chop 42 Act I. Sc . iv . The Tragedy of.
... Murd . Spoke like a tall fellow that respects his reputation . Come , shall we to this gear ? First Murd . Take him over the costard with the 150 hilts of thy sword , and then we will chop 42 Act I. Sc . iv . The Tragedy of.
Pagina 43
William Shakespeare. hilts of thy sword , and then we will chop him 160 in the malmsey - butt in the next room . Sec . Murd . O excellent device ! make a sop of him . First Murd . Hark ! he stirs : shall I strike ? Sec . Murd . No ...
William Shakespeare. hilts of thy sword , and then we will chop him 160 in the malmsey - butt in the next room . Sec . Murd . O excellent device ! make a sop of him . First Murd . Hark ! he stirs : shall I strike ? Sec . Murd . No ...
Termeni și expresii frecvente
Anne arms Baynard's Castle blood Brak Brakenbury brother Buck Buckingham Cate Catesby Clar Clarence cousin curse daughter dead dear death deed Derby didst Dorset doth dream Duch Duchess of York Duke Duke of Gloucester Edward Eliz Exeunt Exit eyes farewell father fear Folio friends gentle George Stanley Glou God's grace gracious lord Grey hate hath hear heart heaven Henry VI holy horse house of Lancaster King Richard live look Lord Hastings Lord Stanley Madam Margaret Mess Methought mother Murd murder noble Norfolk Omitted in Ff Omitted in Qq peace Plantagenet pray prince Quarto queen Ratcliff reading of Qq Rich Richard Ratcliff Richm Richmond Rivers royal Scene sleep sorrow soul sovereign speak Stan Stanley sweet sword tell tender thee thine Third Cit thou hast thyself to-morrow Tower Tyrrel uncle unto weep wife William Brandon York
Pasaje populare
Pagina 2 - He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
Pagina 18 - What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate, With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by...
Pagina 37 - All scattered in the bottom of the sea, Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Pagina 159 - I shall despair. —There is no creature loves me ; And, if I die, no soul will pity me: — Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself. Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent ; and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard^ .En/CT-RATCLlFF.
Pagina 158 - 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?
Pagina 158 - Give me another horse! bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream. O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What! do I fear myself? there's none else by Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
Pagina 1 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by. this sun of York ; And all the clouds, that lowered upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Pagina 167 - Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die: I think, there be six Richmonds in the field ; Five have I slain to-day, instead of him: — A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! [Exeunt.
Pagina 37 - As we pac'd along Upon tHe giddy footing of the hatches, Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board, Into the tumbling billows of the main.
Pagina 38 - Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud, ' What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...