Shakespeare: la invención de lo humano

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Editorial Norma, 2001 - 734 pages
 

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Page 137 - To find ourselves dishonourable graves. Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings. Brutus, and Caesar: what should be in that Caesar...
Page 276 - And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Page 166 - Tu-whit, tu-who - a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw...
Page 230 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Page 54 - Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labour both by sea and land...
Page 187 - The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report what my dream was.
Page 284 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. DUCH. Alas, poor Richard! where rides he the whilst? YORK. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
Page 178 - That very time I saw, — but thou could'st not, — Flying between the cold moon and the earth, Cupid all arm'd : a certain aim he took At a fair vestal, throned by the west ; And...

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