Richard III. Henry VIII. Troilus

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Estes and Lauriat, 1887
 

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Стр. 302 - Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues; be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, 0 Cromwell! Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Стр. 173 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Стр. 302 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee...
Стр. 449 - I do not strain at the position, — It is familiar, — but at the author's drift : Who, in his circumstance, expressly proves, That no man is the lord of any thing, (Though in and of him there be much consisting, ) Till he communicate his parts to others...
Стр. 20 - But I— that am not shap'd 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...
Стр. 298 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Стр. 52 - I have pass'da miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, — So full of dismal terror was the time ! Brak.
Стр. 53 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Стр. 172 - O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. 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.
Стр. 19 - Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute...

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