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" That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember ? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on : and yet, within a month — Let me not think on't — Frailty,... "
The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of the ... - Page 138
by William Shakespeare - 1805
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Otherworldly Hamlet

John O'Meara - Literary Collections - 1991 - 112 pages
...excellent a king that was to this Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven...had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month — why she, even she — O God! .................................................................................
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Hamlet

William Shakespeare - Drama - 1992 - 138 pages
...a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, 140 That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven...month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body, Like Niobe all tears, why she, even she — O God, a beast that wants...
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Suffocating Mothers: Fantasies of Maternal Origin in Shakespeare's Plays ...

Janet Adelman - Literary Criticism - 1992 - 379 pages
...excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven...on; and yet within a month — Let me not think on't . . . (1.2.139-46) This image of parental love is so satisfying to Hamlet in part because it seems...
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After Oedipus: Shakespeare in Psychoanalysis

Julia Reinhard Lupton, Lupton Julia Einhard, Kenneth Reinhard - Literary Criticism - 1993 - 267 pages
...excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven...old With which she follow'd my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears — why, she — O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason Would have mourn'd...
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And Flights of Angels

Terrence Ortwein - 1994 - 91 pages
...nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this: But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two, Within a month — Let me not think on't; frailty,...month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body Like Niobe, all tears, she married with my uncle, My father's brother,...
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Selected Poems

William Shakespeare - Poetry - 1995 - 128 pages
...excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven...month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she O God, a beast that wants discourse...
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Hamlet and Narcissus

John Russell - Drama - 1995 - 246 pages
..."Heaven and earth, / Must I remember?" the young prince of Denmark rhetorically and angrily asks himself: Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite...month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body Like Niobe, all tears, •why she, even she — O God, a beast that...
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Hamlet

William Shakespeare, Russell Jackson - Performing Arts - 1996 - 208 pages
...excellent a King, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly! Heaven...Let me not think on't; frailty, thy name is woman He turns to face away from the door. HAMLET (continuing) A little month, or ere those shoes were old...
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Shakespeare the Playwright: A Companion to the Complete Tragedies, Histories ...

Victor L. Cahn - Drama - 1996 - 865 pages
...to that subject, and the tensions within leave him stumbling over his own thoughts: Why, she should hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By...month, or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body, Like Niobe, all tears — why, she [even she] — O God, a beast that...
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Hamlet

William Shakespeare - Drama - 1996 - 101 pages
...excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother, no That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven...had grown By what it fed on, and yet, within a month — us Let me not think on't. Frailty, thy name is woman — A little month, or ere those shoes were...
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