The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: King Richard III. King Henry VIII. Troilus and Cressida. Timon of Athens. CoriolanusPhillips, Sampson, 1850 - 38 стор. |
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Сторінка 17
... sword ; Which if thou please to hide in this true breast , And let the soul forth that adoreth thee , I lay it naked to the deadly stroke , And humbly beg the death upon my knee . [ He lays his breast open ; she offers at it with his sword ...
... sword ; Which if thou please to hide in this true breast , And let the soul forth that adoreth thee , I lay it naked to the deadly stroke , And humbly beg the death upon my knee . [ He lays his breast open ; she offers at it with his sword ...
Сторінка 18
... sword . Glo . Say , then , my peace is made . Anne . That shall you know hereafter . Glo . But shall I live in hope ? Anne . All men , I hope , live so . Glo . Vouchsafe to wear this ring . Anne . To take , is not to give . [ She puts ...
... sword . Glo . Say , then , my peace is made . Anne . That shall you know hereafter . Glo . But shall I live in hope ? Anne . All men , I hope , live so . Glo . Vouchsafe to wear this ring . Anne . To take , is not to give . [ She puts ...
Сторінка 37
... sword , and then throw him into the malmsey butt , in the next room . 2 Murd . O , excellent devise ! and make a sop of him . 1 Murd . Soft ! he wakes . 2 Murd . Strike . 1 Murd . No , we'll reason with him . Clar . Where art thou ...
... sword , and then throw him into the malmsey butt , in the next room . 2 Murd . O , excellent devise ! and make a sop of him . 1 Murd . Soft ! he wakes . 2 Murd . Strike . 1 Murd . No , we'll reason with him . Clar . Where art thou ...
Сторінка 58
... sword , till the process of the story required that both the protector and the protected should be carried off by the fiend , or the latter driven roaring from the stage by some miraculous interposition in favor of the repentant ...
... sword , till the process of the story required that both the protector and the protected should be carried off by the fiend , or the latter driven roaring from the stage by some miraculous interposition in favor of the repentant ...
Сторінка 59
... sword to it ? Glo . Ay , gentle cousin , were it light enough . York . Ŏ then , I see , you'll part but with light gifts . In weightier things you'll say a beggar , nay . Glo . It is too weighty for your grace to wear . York . I weigh ...
... sword to it ? Glo . Ay , gentle cousin , were it light enough . York . Ŏ then , I see , you'll part but with light gifts . In weightier things you'll say a beggar , nay . Glo . It is too weighty for your grace to wear . York . I weigh ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Achilles Agam Agamemnon Ajax Alcib Alcibiades Anne Antium Apem Apemantus Aufidius bear beseech blood brother Buck Buckingham Calchas cardinal Catesby Cham Clar Clarence Cominius Coriolanus Cres Cressida curse death Diomed dost doth Duch duke Edward Eliz Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fear Flav follow fool friends Gent give Gloster gods grace hate hath hear heart Heaven Hect Hector Holinshed honor Kath lady live look lord Lord Chamberlain lord Hastings madam Marcius means Menelaus Menenius mother Murd ne'er never noble Pandarus Patr Patroclus peace Poet pr'ythee pray Priam prince queen Rich Richmond Rome SCENE Senators Serv Servant Shakspeare Sir Thomas Lovell soul speak sweet sword tell thee Ther there's Thersites thine thing thou art thou hast Timon Troilus Trojan Troy Ulyss unto Volces word
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 201 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ; I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes...
Сторінка 183 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Сторінка 203 - O my lord ! Must I then leave you ? Must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master ? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. — •' The king shall have my service ; but my prayers, For ever and for ever, shall be yours.
Сторінка 201 - So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Сторінка 196 - The letter, as I live, with all the business I writ to his holiness. Nay, then, farewell ! I have touched the highest point of all my greatness ; And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more.
Сторінка 202 - Long in his highness' favor, and do justice For truth's sake, and his conscience ; that his bones, When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em !
Сторінка 34 - Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud, ' What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...
Сторінка 204 - ... carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king ; And...
Сторінка 204 - Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee : Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Сторінка 210 - O father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity...