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- Уильям Шекспир
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How
now
,
my
lord
!
why
do
you
keep
alone
,
Of
sorriest
fancies
your
companions
making
,
Using
those
thoughts
which
should
indeed
have
died
With
them
they
think
on
?
Things
without
all
remedy
Should
be
without
regard
:
what
's
done
is
done
.
Macbeth
:
We
have
scotch
'd
the
snake
,
not
kill
'd
it
:
She
'll
close
and
be
herself
,
whilst
our
poor
malice
Remains
in
danger
of
her
former
tooth
.
But
let
the
frame
of
things
disjoint
,
both
the
worlds
suffer
,
Ere
we
will
eat
our
meal
in
fear
and
sleep
