La Collerica: comedietta in un atto

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R.S.Francis, 1857
 

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Стр. 73 - I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me. — Did heaven look on, And would not take their part ? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls.
Стр. 31 - Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them, and smear The sleepy grooms with blood.
Стр. 61 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder ? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine is blanch'd with fear.
Стр. 19 - As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' Like the poor cat i
Стр. 25 - 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.
Стр. 51 - But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly...
Стр. 5 - Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am Thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair.
Стр. 61 - I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse and worse ; Question enrages him : at once, good night : — Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once.
Стр. 51 - Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.
Стр. 9 - Than wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear ; And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that impedes thee from the golden round, Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem To have thee crown'd withal.

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