Shakespeare's Tragedy of King Richard II.

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F. Hart, 1878 - 104 頁
 

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第 100 頁 - Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, For Dickon thy master is bought and sold." A thing devised by the enemy. — Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge : Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls...
第 96 頁 - 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 dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty, guilty!
第 35 頁 - 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 ?
第 9 頁 - That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to see my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity...
第 54 頁 - My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, I saw good strawberries in your garden there : I do beseech you send for some of them.
第 36 頁 - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling waked, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell, Such terrible impression made my dream.
第 34 頁 - 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.
第 9 頁 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
第 95 頁 - 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.
第 34 頁 - That, as I am a christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ; So full of dismal terror was the time.

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