Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Afide againſt anfwer Banquo Beat Beatrice Benedick beſt blood Bora brother Claud Claudio Clot Cloten coufin CYMBELINE defire Dogb doth duke of Burgundy Engliſh Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fafe faid falfe faſhion father fear feem fervice fhall fhew fhould fignior flain Fleance fleep foldier fome foul fpeak fpirits France French ftill ftrange fuch fure fwear fword Gower grace GUIDERIUS Harfleur hath hear heart Henry Hero himſelf honour horfe huſband Iach IACHIMO Imogen itſelf Kath king lady lefs Leon Leonato look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff Mach mafter majefty miſtreſs moft moſt muft muſt myſelf night Pedro Pifanio Pift pleaſe Poft Pofthumus pray prefent prince purpoſe Queen reafon Roffe SCENE ſhall ſhe ſpeak ſtand tell thane thee thefe there's theſe thing thofe thoſe thou art whofe Witch worfe
68 psl. - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered...
18 psl. - Is this a dagger which I see before me, 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?
6 psl. - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the...
25 psl. - Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself, And say, it is not so. Re-enter MACBETH and LENOX. Macb. 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.
38 psl. - 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.
66 psl. - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
9 psl. - For in my way it lies. Stars hide your fires ! Let not light see my black and deep desires : The eye wink at the hand ! yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
21 psl. - Infirm of purpose ! Give me the daggers : the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil.
66 psl. - By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost ; It yearns me not if men my garments wear ; Such outward things dwell not in my desires : But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
10 psl. - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition ; but without The illness should attend it : what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win...