William Shakespeare, Volumi 1-3

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Pagina 257 - twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt, the strong-bas'd promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up The pine and cedar; graves at my command Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd and let 'em forth By my so potent Art.
Pagina 257 - Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves ; And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, When he comes back...
Pagina 253 - But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor; And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets He has done my 'office : I know not if 't be true ; But I, for mere suspicion in that kind, Will do as if for surety.
Pagina 257 - With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory Have I made shake ; and by the spurs pluck'd up The pine and cedar : graves, at my command, Have waked their sleepers; oped, and let them forth By my so potent art...
Pagina 299 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it; My part of death no one so true Did share it.
Pagina 82 - Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? No, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verse astonished. He, nor...
Pagina 37 - I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word 'love,' which graybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another And not in me: I am myself alone.
Pagina 72 - In me. thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west ; Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
Pagina 72 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone...
Pagina 95 - Tragedy called the Moor of Venice : " " I came unknown to any of the rest, To tell the news ; I saw the lady drest : The woman plays to-day ; mistake me not, No man in gown, or page in petticoat : A woman to my knowledge, yet I can't, If I should die, make affidavit on't.