The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, in Ten Volumes: Richard the Third. Henry the Eighth. CoriolanusCollins & Hannay, 1823 |
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Strona 14
... live , my lord , to give them thanks , That were the cause of my imprisonment . Glo . No doubt , no doubt ; and so shall Clarence too ; For they , that were your enemies , are his , And have prevail'd as much on him , as you . Hast ...
... live , my lord , to give them thanks , That were the cause of my imprisonment . Glo . No doubt , no doubt ; and so shall Clarence too ; For they , that were your enemies , are his , And have prevail'd as much on him , as you . Hast ...
Strona 15
... live , I hope ; and must not die , Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven . I'll in , to urge his hatred more to Clarence , With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments ; And , if I fail not in my deep intent , Clarence hath ...
... live , I hope ; and must not die , Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaven . I'll in , to urge his hatred more to Clarence , With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments ; And , if I fail not in my deep intent , Clarence hath ...
Strona 16
... lives ! If ever he have child , abortive be it , Prodigious , and untimely brought to light , Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view ; And that be heir to his unhappiness ! " If ever he have wife , let ...
... lives ! If ever he have child , abortive be it , Prodigious , and untimely brought to light , Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view ; And that be heir to his unhappiness ! " If ever he have wife , let ...
Strona 19
... live one hour in your sweet bosom . Anne . If I thought that , I tell thee , homicide , These nails should rend that ... lives , that loves you better than he could . Anne . Name him . Glo . Plantagenet . Anne . Why , that was he . Glo ...
... live one hour in your sweet bosom . Anne . If I thought that , I tell thee , homicide , These nails should rend that ... lives , that loves you better than he could . Anne . Name him . Glo . Plantagenet . Anne . Why , that was he . Glo ...
Strona 20
... I fear me , both are false . Glo . Then man Was never true . Anne . Well , well , put up your sword . Glo . Say then , my peace is made . Anne . That shall you know Hereafter Glo . But shall I live in hope ? Anne 20 ACTI KING RICHARD III .
... I fear me , both are false . Glo . Then man Was never true . Anne . Well , well , put up your sword . Glo . Say then , my peace is made . Anne . That shall you know Hereafter Glo . But shall I live in hope ? Anne 20 ACTI KING RICHARD III .
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Anne Antium Aufidius bear beseech blood brother Buck Buckingham cardinal Cate Catesby Cham Clar Clarence Cominius consul Coriolanus Corioli Crom curse death Dorset doth Duch duke duke of Buckingham Duke of NORFOLK Earl of SURREY Edward Eliz enemies Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell fear friends gentle give Gloster grace gracious hate hath hear heart heaven holy honour i'the JOHNSON Kath King RICHARD king's lady Lart LARTIUS live look lord Lord Chamberlain lord Hastings LOVELL madam MALONE Marcius Menenius mother never noble NORFOLK o'the peace poor Pr'ythee pray prince queen Rich Richmond Rome royal SCENE senate Sir Thomas Sir THOMAS LOVELL soul speak Stan stand Stanley STEEVENS sword tell thee thou hast tongue Tower tribunes unto voices Volces VOLUMNIA WARBURTON wife Wolsey word York
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 169 - 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 forever 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...
Strona 169 - 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...
Strona 165 - Nay then, farewell ! I have touch'd 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.
Strona 102 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty, guilty!
Strona 172 - ... 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.
Strona 178 - Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle. He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not \ But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer: And though he were unsatisfied in getting (Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely. Ever witness for him Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford...
Strona 169 - O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Strona 177 - This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle, He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer.
Strona 32 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Strona 197 - Her own shall bless her: Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her; In her days every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine what he plants, and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours. God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.