The Works of Shakespeare: The second part of King Henry VI ; The third part of King Henry VI ; The tragedy of King Richard III

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J. M. Dent & Company, 1900
 

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Стр. xlii - To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live. When this is known, then to divide the times: So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself...
Стр. xvi - Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school : and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used, and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
Стр. xlii - Content' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Стр. xlii - O God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain ; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete ; How many hours bring about the day ; How many days will finish up the year ; How many years a mortal man may live.
Стр. xlii - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, • His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Стр. cxxi - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Стр. lxi - Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace...
Стр. cxxi - Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 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? 0 no! Alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself.
Стр. lxxiv - 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.
Стр. lxi - But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...

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