Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
againe Armed better blood body cause Clowne comes Corambis dead death deere Denmarke doth doubt downe drinke eare earth England Enter euen exeunt exit eyes face faith falles farewell father fellow finde Gent Gentlemen Ghost giue gone grace graue griefe ground Hamlet hand hart hast hath haue head heard heare heart heauen holde Horatio I'le i'st keepe kill King Lady laugh Lear Leartes leaue looke Lord loue maiestie Marcellus Mary meanes mother murder nature neuer night Norway Ofel Ofelia olde once play Players poore pray Prince Queene reuenge seene selfe sent shew sonne soule speake spirit stand sweete t'is tell thanke thee there's thing thinke thou thoughts tongue true vnto vpon walke watch winde yong
Pàgina 3 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Pàgina 8 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Pàgina 8 - To grunt and sweate vnder this weary life, When that he may his full Quietus make, With a bare bodkin, who would this indure, But for a hope of something after death? Which...
Pàgina 8 - Are burnt and purged away: but that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular* hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
Pàgina 8 - To be, or not to be, I there's the point, To Die, to sleepe, is that all? I all: No, to sleepe, to dreame, I mary there it goes, For in that dreame of death, when wee awake, And borne before an euerlasting ludge, From whence no passenger euer retur'nd, The vndiscouered country, at whose sight The happy smile, and the accursed damn'd. But for this, the ioyfull hope of this...