מה אומרים אנשים - כתיבת ביקורת
לא מצאנו ביקורות במקומות הרגילים
מהדורות אחרות - הצג הכל
Antipholus arms art thou Aumerle Banquo Bast Bishop of CARLISLE blood Boling Bolingbroke breath brother castle Const cousin crown death devil dost thou doth Dromio Duch duke duke of Hereford earl earth England Ephesus Ereunt Erit eyes face fair Falstaff father Faulconbridge fear France friends Gaunt give Glend grace grief hand Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven Henry Holinshed honour horse Hubert King John King Richard Lady land liege live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff majesty means Mortimer never night noble Northumberland peace Percy Poins pr’ythee pray prince prince of Wales Queen Rich Rosse SCENE Scotland Shakspeare shame soul speak stand STEEvens sweet sword tell thane thee thine thou art thou hast tongue traitor uncle villain wife Witch word York
עמוד 86 - 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 As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
עמוד 194 - 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.
עמוד 282 - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antick sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp; Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable; and humour'd thus Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
עמוד 257 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry, As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son ; This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leas'd out, I die pronouncing it, Like to a tenement or pelting farm...
עמוד 81 - He's here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
עמוד 82 - We will proceed no further in this business : He hath honour'd me of late ; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.
עמוד 283 - Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence : throw away respect, Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while : I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends : subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a king ? Car.
עמוד 94 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time ; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality : All is but toys : renown and grace is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
עמוד 81 - 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.— But, in these cases, We still have judgment here ; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor : This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice...