Dramatic Works of Shakespeare, 第 3 卷

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William Paterson, 1883
 

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第387页 - And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings : How some have been deposed; some slain in war...
第387页 - Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
第303页 - And, father cardinal, I have heard you say, That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: If that be true, I shall see my boy again...
第317页 - It is the curse of kings, to be attended By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life ; And, on the winking of authority, To understand a law ; to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns More upon humour, than advis'd respect.
第422页 - Ha, ha! keep time. How sour sweet music is When time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives.
第217页 - A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, and own No other function. Each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
第421页 - I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world: And for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it; yet I'll hammer it out.
第413页 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas ! poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
第422页 - Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, And so I am: then crushing penury Persuades me I was better when a king; Then am I king'd again; and...
第359页 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?

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