The beauties of Shakespeare, selected from his plays and poems |
Z wnętrza książki
Wyniki 1 - 5 z 89
Strona xi
... thou go fo faft ? * Read , if thou canst , whom envious Death hath plac'd Within this monument ; Shakespeare , with ... Art but page to serve his wit . ' On his grave - stone underneath is- • Good friends , for Jesus ' fake ...
... thou go fo faft ? * Read , if thou canst , whom envious Death hath plac'd Within this monument ; Shakespeare , with ... Art but page to serve his wit . ' On his grave - stone underneath is- • Good friends , for Jesus ' fake ...
Strona 10
... thou the king . Woe doth the heavier fit , Where it perceives it is but faintly borne . Go say , I fent thee forth to purchase honour , And not the king exil'd thee . Or suppose Devouring peftilence hangs in our air , And thou art ...
... thou the king . Woe doth the heavier fit , Where it perceives it is but faintly borne . Go say , I fent thee forth to purchase honour , And not the king exil'd thee . Or suppose Devouring peftilence hangs in our air , And thou art ...
Strona 12
... thy happy years , That say thou art a man : Diana's lip Is not more fmooth and rubious ; thy small pipe is , as the maiden's organ , shrill and found ; And all is semblative a woman's part . Twelfth Night , A. 2. Sc . 4 . BEAUTY ...
... thy happy years , That say thou art a man : Diana's lip Is not more fmooth and rubious ; thy small pipe is , as the maiden's organ , shrill and found ; And all is semblative a woman's part . Twelfth Night , A. 2. Sc . 4 . BEAUTY ...
Strona 14
... art thou ? Have not . I An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? Thy words , I grant , are bigger : for I wear not My dagger in my mouth .. 1 BRUTUS . Cymbeline , A. 4. Sc . 3 . This was the noblest Roman of them all ; All the ...
... art thou ? Have not . I An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? Thy words , I grant , are bigger : for I wear not My dagger in my mouth .. 1 BRUTUS . Cymbeline , A. 4. Sc . 3 . This was the noblest Roman of them all ; All the ...
Strona 37
... thou art a wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy does much . Twelfth Night , A.2 . Sc . 1 . DISLIKE . At first Istuck my choice upon her , ere my heart Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue : Where the impression of mine eye ...
... thou art a wickedness Wherein the pregnant enemy does much . Twelfth Night , A.2 . Sc . 1 . DISLIKE . At first Istuck my choice upon her , ere my heart Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue : Where the impression of mine eye ...
Inne wydania - Wyświetl wszystko
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Antony Apem baſe beſt bleſſed blood Brutus Cafar Caffius cauſe Clown Coriolanus courſe Cymbeline death deed doſt thou doth Duke elſe Exeunt eyes falſe father fear firſt fleep fome fool forrow foul friends fuch Gentlemen of Verona give grace Hamlet hath hear heart heaven honour Iago Ibid itſelf Julius Cæfar King Henry King Lear King Richard III Lady laſt Lear look Lord loſe Macbeth Mach maſters Merchant of Venice moſt muſt myſelf never night noble obſerve Othello pleaſe Pleb poor preſent Prince purpoſe reaſon reſt Romeo ſay ſee ſeem ſeen ſenſe ſervice ſet ſhall ſhame ſhe ſhew ſhould ſmile ſome ſpeak ſpirit ſtand ſtate ſtill ſtrange ſuch ſweet ſword tears tell thee theſe thine thing thoſe thou art thou doſt Timon Timon of Athens tongue uſe whoſe Winter's Tale
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 282 - I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Strona 282 - And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts : I am no orator, as Brutus is ; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend...
Strona 149 - I hate him for he is a Christian ; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
Strona 137 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly; if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success : that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come.
Strona 199 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.
Strona 82 - The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Strona 54 - 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?
Strona 67 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Strona 89 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
Strona 281 - O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.