The Tragedy of King LearMethuen, 1905 - 249 páginas |
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Página 215 - tis fittest. Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your majesty? Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the grave. — Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
Página 216 - And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks I should know you, and know this man; Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant What place this is; and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; For (as I am a man) I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
Página 123 - Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks ! rage ! blow ! You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks! You sulphurous and thought-executing fires, Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts, Singe my white head ! And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world ! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That make ingrateful man ! Fool.
Página 199 - With a more riotous appetite. Down from the waist they are centaurs, though women all above : but to the girdle do the gods inherit, beneath is all the fiends' ; there's hell, there's darkness, there is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption.
Página 190 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Página xxxi - Give me the map there. — Know, that we have divided In three, our kingdom : and 'tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age ; Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburden'd crawl toward death. — Our son of Cornwall, And you, our no less loving son of Albany, We have this hour a constant will to publish Our daughters' several dowers, that future strife May be prevented now.
Página 114 - O, reason not the need! Our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow" not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady ; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.
Página 244 - I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack. — She's gone for ever ! — I know when one is dead, and when one lives ; She's dead as earth. — Lend me a looking-glass ; If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives.
Página 36 - This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune, — often the surfeit of our own behaviour, — we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars...
Página 133 - But I will punish home : — No, I will weep no more. — In such a night To shut me out ! — Pour on ; I will endure :— In such a night as this ! O Regan, Goneril ! — Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all,— O, that way madness lies ; let me shun that ; No more of that, — Kent.