The plays (poems) of Shakespeare, ed. by H. Staunton, the illustr. by J. Gilbert engr. by the brothers Dalziel, Частина 170,Том 3 |
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Сторінка 25
... fear of the storm . And art thou living , Stephano ? O Stephano , two Neapolitans ' scaped ! STE . Pr'ythee , do not turn me about ; my stomach is not constant . CAL . [ Aside . ] These be fine things , an if they be not sprites ...
... fear of the storm . And art thou living , Stephano ? O Stephano , two Neapolitans ' scaped ! STE . Pr'ythee , do not turn me about ; my stomach is not constant . CAL . [ Aside . ] These be fine things , an if they be not sprites ...
Сторінка 38
... fear'd Lest I might anger thee . PRO . Say again , where didst thou leave these varlets ? ARI . I told you , sir , they were red - hot with drinking ; So full of valour that they smote the air For breathing in their faces ; beat the ...
... fear'd Lest I might anger thee . PRO . Say again , where didst thou leave these varlets ? ARI . I told you , sir , they were red - hot with drinking ; So full of valour that they smote the air For breathing in their faces ; beat the ...
Сторінка 43
... fear , a madness held me : this must crave- An if this be at all - a most strange story . Thy dukedom I resign ; and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs . - But how should Prospero Be living , and be here ? PRO . TO GON . ] First ...
... fear , a madness held me : this must crave- An if this be at all - a most strange story . Thy dukedom I resign ; and do entreat Thou pardon me my wrongs . - But how should Prospero Be living , and be here ? PRO . TO GON . ] First ...
Сторінка 45
... fear me , will never out of my bones : I shall not fear fly - blowing . SEB . Why , how now , Stephano ? STE . O , touch me not ; I am not Stephano , but a cramp . on . PRO . You'd be king o ' the isle , sirrah ? STE . I should have ...
... fear me , will never out of my bones : I shall not fear fly - blowing . SEB . Why , how now , Stephano ? STE . O , touch me not ; I am not Stephano , but a cramp . on . PRO . You'd be king o ' the isle , sirrah ? STE . I should have ...
Сторінка 65
... fear . I pray you , have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower ; and , as I say , retire with me to my lodging , from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak : pray ye , go ; there's my key - if you ...
... fear . I pray you , have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower ; and , as I say , retire with me to my lodging , from whence I will fitly bring you to hear my lord speak : pray ye , go ; there's my key - if you ...
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Achilles Ajax Antony Banquo bear blood Brutus Cæsar CASCA Cassius CLEO Cleopatra Collier's annotator Coriolanus CRES daughter dead dear death deed DEMET Desdemona dost doth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fear folio omits follow fool fortune friends give gods grace Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven Hector honour IAGO Julius Cæsar KENT king kiss lady Laertes LEAR live look lord Lucius MACB Macbeth MACD madam Marcius Mark Antony means never night noble o'er Old text Othello Pandarus Patroclus play Pompey poor pr'ythee pray quarto queen Re-enter Rome SCENE Shakespeare shalt shame sorrow soul speak speech stand sweet sword tears tell thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast thought Titus Andronicus tongue Troilus true ULYSS unto wife word Отн
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Сторінка 438 - Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause ; and be silent that you may hear : believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
Сторінка 362 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Сторінка 344 - I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
Сторінка 707 - No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate...
Сторінка 361 - O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
Сторінка 116 - The weight of this sad time we must obey; Speak what we feel , not what we ought to say. The oldest hath borne most: we that are young Shall never see so much , nor live so long.
Сторінка 294 - A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done. Perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright : to have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast : keep, then, the path...
Сторінка 367 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Сторінка 496 - The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools. This is more strange Than such a murder is.
Сторінка 765 - Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride, With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace: Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all-triumphant splendour on my brow; But out, alack ! he was but one hour mine, The region cloud hath mask'd him from...