Відгуки відвідувачів - Написати рецензію
Не знайдено жодних рецензій.
art thou Attendants bear blood bring Capulet child comes Cordelia Corn daughter dead dear death dost doth draw duke Edgar Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair fall farewell father fear follow Fool fortune France friar give Glos Gloster gone Goneril hand hath head hear heart heaven hence hold hour I'll Juliet keep Kent king lady Lear leave letter light live look lord madam married master means mind Montague nature never night Nurse Paris peace poor pray prince Romeo SCENE Servants sister sleep sound speak stand stay Stew sweet sword tears tell thee thine thing thou art thou hast true turn Tybalt villain wilt young
Сторінка 28 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, (often the surfeit of our own behavior,) we make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars ; as if we were villains by necessity ; fools, by heavenly compulsion ; knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance ; drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obedience of planetary influence ; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on.
Сторінка 75 - O, reason not the need ! our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous : Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap, as beast's : thou art a lady ; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.
Сторінка 81 - Spit, fire! spout, rain! Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness; I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children, You owe me no subscription: then, let fall Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, A poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man.
Сторінка 204 - O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Сторінка 203 - But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks ? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she...
Сторінка 191 - Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut , Made by the joiner squirrel , or old grub , Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Сторінка 204 - O Romeo, Romeo ! wherefore art thou Romeo ? Deny thy father and refuse thy name : Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Сторінка 11 - tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburden'd crawl toward death. Our son of Cornwall, And you, our no less loving son of Albany, We have this hour a constant will to publish Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife May, be prevented now.
Сторінка 208 - But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.