Hamlet: A TragedyMcClure, Phillips and Company, 1901 - 136 стор. |
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Сторінка 13
... tears : why she , even she , — O God ! a beast that wants discourse of reason Would have mourn'd longer , -married with my uncle , My father's brother , but no more like my father Than I to Hercules : within a month ; Ere yet the salt ...
... tears : why she , even she , — O God ! a beast that wants discourse of reason Would have mourn'd longer , -married with my uncle , My father's brother , but no more like my father Than I to Hercules : within a month ; Ere yet the salt ...
Сторінка 14
A Tragedy William Shakespeare. Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes , She married . O , most wicked speed , to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! It is not , nor it ... tears ...
A Tragedy William Shakespeare. Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes , She married . O , most wicked speed , to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! It is not , nor it ... tears ...
Сторінка 57
... tears in ' s eyes . Prithee , no more . HAMLET . ' Tis well ; I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon . Good my lord , will you see the play- ers well bestowed ? Do you hear , let them be well used , for they are the abstract and ...
... tears in ' s eyes . Prithee , no more . HAMLET . ' Tis well ; I'll have thee speak out the rest of this soon . Good my lord , will you see the play- ers well bestowed ? Do you hear , let them be well used , for they are the abstract and ...
Сторінка 58
... Tears in his eyes , distraction in ' s aspect , A broken voice , and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing ! For Hecuba ! What's Hecuba to him , or he to Hecuba , That he should weep for her ? What ...
... Tears in his eyes , distraction in ' s aspect , A broken voice , and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing ! For Hecuba ! What's Hecuba to him , or he to Hecuba , That he should weep for her ? What ...
Сторінка 70
... tear a passion to tatters , to very rags , to split the ears of the groundlings , who , for the most part , are capa- ble of nothing but inexplicable dumb - shows and noise I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it ...
... tear a passion to tatters , to very rags , to split the ears of the groundlings , who , for the most part , are capa- ble of nothing but inexplicable dumb - shows and noise I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Adieu arras brother cousin Hamlet Dane daughter dead dear death Denmark Dost thou doth drink E. H. SOTHERN e'en earth Elsinore Enter HAMLET Enter HORATIO Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ Exit Exit GHOST eyes faith Farewell fear foils follow Fortinbras foul FRANCISCO friends gentlemen GHOST give grace grief hand hath hear heart heaven Hecuba hell hither hold honest honour HORATIO and MARCELLUS is't Jephthah King of Denmark lady LAERTES leave look Lord Hamlet lordship madam majesty MARCELLUS and BERNARDO marry mother murder night noble Norway o'er offence OPHELIA OSRIC passion play PLAYER KING PLAYER QUEEN poison'd POLONIUS pray Priam Pyrrhus rapiers Re-enter revenge REYNALDO ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN SECOND CLOWN Sings skull sleep speak speech spirit Swear sweet Sweet lord sword tell thee There's thine thing thou hast thoughts thy soul to-night tongue trumpet twere twill villain wager What's words
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 92 - Ecstasy! My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful music. It is not madness That I have utter'd : bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word, which madness Would gambol from.
Сторінка 13 - That it should come to this ! But two months dead ! nay, not so much, not two : So 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.
Сторінка 65 - To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time.
Сторінка 48 - tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison.
Сторінка 65 - That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Сторінка 29 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Сторінка 118 - Alas, poor Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio ; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times. And now how abhorred in my imagination it is ! My gorge rises at it.
Сторінка 98 - What is the cause, Laertes, That thy rebellion looks so giant-like ? Let him go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person ; There's such divinity doth hedge a king, That treason can but peep to what it would, Acts little of his will.
Сторінка 68 - O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown ! The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword : The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion and the mould of form, The observed of all observers...
Сторінка 50 - I have of late — but wherefore I know not — lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises ; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, — why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man ! how noble in reason ! how infinite...