The Family Shakspeare ... in which Nothing is Added to the Original Text: But Those Words and Expressions are Omitted which Cannot with Propriety be Read Aloud in a Family ...
Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, Brown, 1825
Så tycker andra - Skriv en recension
Vi kunde inte hitta några recensioner.
Andra upplagor - Visa alla
The Family Shakspeare ... in which Nothing is Added to the Original Text ...
William Shakespeare,Thomas Bowdler
Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1825
arms Attendants Bast bear better blood born breath bring brother Camillo child comes dead death deed dost doth Dromio Duke England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair father fear fellow France give gone grace hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hence highness hold honour hour Hubert husband I'll John keep king Lady land leave Leon live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd master mean mistress mother nature never night noble once Paul peace poor pray present prince queen Rosse SCENE shame Shep sleep soul speak stand stay sweet tell thee There's thine things thou art thought tongue true truth wife Witch young
Sida 180 - The effect, and it. Come to .my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor ! Enter MACBETH.
Sida 296 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Sida 182 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly : If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We'd jump the life to come.
Sida 187 - 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 ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable 40 As this which now I draw.
Sida 174 - This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature...
Sida 210 - Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! let the earth hide thee ! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; Thou hast no speculation" in those eyes Which thou dost glare with ! LADY M.
Sida 174 - Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange : And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence.
Sida 335 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Sida 179 - Stop up the access and passage to remorse ; > That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect, and it ! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief...
Sida 242 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle...