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Страница 77 - Get thee to a nunnery. Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me. I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
Страница 198 - Is this the nature Whom passion could not shake? whose solid virtue The shot of accident, nor dart of chance. Could neither graze nor pierce?
Страница 172 - would it had been done ! Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pro. Abhorred slave ! Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known...
Страница 52 - I have of late (but, wherefore, I know not) lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercises : and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you — this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire — why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Страница 201 - I'll smell it on the tree. He kisses her O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade Justice to break her sword ! One more, one more. Be thus when thou art dead and I will kill thee, And love thee after. One more, and this the last.
Страница 187 - Think, my lord ! By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown.
Страница 49 - Then goes he to the length of all his arm ; And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, He falls to such perusal of my face As he would draw it.
Страница 79 - I have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another ; you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance : Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad.