The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text of the corrected copies left by G. Steevens and E. Malone, with a selection of notes from the most eminent commentors by A. Chalmers, Том 5
Відгуки відвідувачів - Написати рецензію
Не знайдено жодних рецензій.
Інші видання - Показати все
answer arms Bardolph bear better blood body bring brother Cade captain Clarence Clifford comes crown dead death doth duke earl Edward enemy England English Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair father fear field fight follow Forces France French friends give Gloster grace hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hence hold honour hope I'll John Johnson keep King Henry lady leave live look lord majesty master means mind never night noble once peace Pist play poor present prince queen reason rest Richard SCENE sir John soldiers Somerset soul speak spirit stand stay Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tell thee thine thing thou thou art thought thousand true unto Warwick York young
Сторінка 167 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; Or close the wall up with our English dead ! In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility : But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger...
Сторінка 129 - O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention ! A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, And monarchs to behold the swelling scene ! Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, Assume the port of Mars ; and, at his heels, Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire, Crouch for employment.
Сторінка 141 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their ( emperor...
Сторінка 168 - Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding— which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit; and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!
Сторінка 54 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king?
Сторінка 168 - Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Сторінка 208 - Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd : This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered : We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he, to-day that sheds his blood with me, Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er...
Сторінка 15 - Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me: I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.
Сторінка 507 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? * O, yes it doth ; a thousand fold it doth. * And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, * His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, * His wonted sleep .under a fresh tree's shade, * All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, * Is far beyond a prince's delicates, * His viands sparkling in a golden cup, * His body couched in a curious bed, * When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.