| Philippa Berry - 1999 - 197 pages
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| Susan Bruce - 1998 - 196 pages
...theology. At the end, he can speak to Cordelia those blazing lines: You do me wrong to take me out o' the grave: Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon...fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. (4.7.45) Now 'the gods themselves' throw incense on human sacrifices (5.3.20). He and Cordelia will... | |
| Susan Bruce - 1998 - 196 pages
...theology. At the end, he can speak to Cordelia those blazing lines: 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 mollen lead. (4.7.45) Now 'the gods themselves' throw incense on human sacrifices (5.3.20). He and... | |
| William Shakespeare - 2001 - 334 pages
...with classical mythology (in its recollection of Ixion): LEAR You do me wrong to take me out o'th ' grave . Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound Upon...fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. (21.43-6) Vast in imaginative scope and elevated in poetic tone though these lines are, they are plain... | |
| Lynn Redgrave, William Shakespeare - 2001 - 68 pages
...warring winds 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...fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. CORDELIA. Sir do you know me? LEAR. You are a spirit, I know, when did you die? Where have I been?... | |
| Richard Webster - 2001 - 244 pages
...the nature of the soul, and the word "soul" appears many times in his works. Here are a few examples: Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound Upon a wheel...fire, that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. (King Lear) Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his own. (Henry V) Lie... | |
| Kenneth Gross - 2001 - 304 pages
...Lear's utterances has disappeared. His mythic recognitions cannot be disillusioned by his literal ones. Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound Upon a wheel...fire that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead. . . . You arc a spirit, I know; where did you die? I know not what to say. I will not swear these are... | |
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