The plays (poems) of Shakespeare, ed. by H. Staunton, the illustr. by J. Gilbert engr. by the brothers Dalziel, Časť 169,Zväzok 2 |
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Výsledky 1 - 5 z 100.
Strana 39
... dead , you should be such a one As you are now , for you are cold and stern ; And now you should be as your mother was , When your sweet self was got . DIA . She then was honest . BER . DIA . So should you be . No : My mother did but ...
... dead , you should be such a one As you are now , for you are cold and stern ; And now you should be as your mother was , When your sweet self was got . DIA . She then was honest . BER . DIA . So should you be . No : My mother did but ...
Strana 49
... dead , And deeper than oblivion we do bury The incensing relics of it : let him approach , A stranger , no offender ; and inform him , So ' tis our will he should . GENT . I shall , my liege . [ Exit Gentleman . KING . What says he to ...
... dead , And deeper than oblivion we do bury The incensing relics of it : let him approach , A stranger , no offender ; and inform him , So ' tis our will he should . GENT . I shall , my liege . [ Exit Gentleman . KING . What says he to ...
Strana 50
... dead , Was a sweet creature ; such a ring as this , The last that e'er I took her leave at court , I saw upon her finger . BER . Hers it was not . KING . Now , pray you , let me see it ; for mine eye , b While I was speaking , oft was ...
... dead , Was a sweet creature ; such a ring as this , The last that e'er I took her leave at court , I saw upon her finger . BER . Hers it was not . KING . Now , pray you , let me see it ; for mine eye , b While I was speaking , oft was ...
Strana 51
... dead , I blush to say it , he won me . Now is the count Rousillon a widower ; his vows are forfeited to me , and my honour's paid to him . He stole from Florence , taking no leave , and I follow him to his country for justice . Grant it ...
... dead , I blush to say it , he won me . Now is the count Rousillon a widower ; his vows are forfeited to me , and my honour's paid to him . He stole from Florence , taking no leave , and I follow him to his country for justice . Grant it ...
Strana 53
... Dead though she be , she feels her young one kick ; So there's my riddle , One that's dead is quick , And now behold the meaning . KING . Re - enter Widow , with HELENA . Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes ? Is ...
... Dead though she be , she feels her young one kick ; So there's my riddle , One that's dead is quick , And now behold the meaning . KING . Re - enter Widow , with HELENA . Is there no exorcist Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes ? Is ...
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Časté výrazy a frázy
Alcibiades APEM Apemantus bear blood brother BUCK Buckingham CADE Clarence Collier's annotator crown Cymbeline daughter dead death dost doth duke duke of York Edward ELIZ Enter Exeunt Exit eyes father fear folio fool fortune France friends GENT gentle gentleman give Gloster grace GUIDERIUS hand hath hear heart heaven Holinshed honour house of Lancaster IACH ISAB Jack Cade KING HENRY lady live look lord Lord Chamberlain LUCIO madam majesty Malvolio marry master means mistress ne'er never night noble NORF old copies Old text peace Pericles Pompey poor pr'ythee pray prince quartos queen RICH Richard RICHARD PLANTAGENET SCENE soldiers Somerset soul speak Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tell thank thee there's thine thou art thou hast Timon unto Warwick word York
Populárne pasáže
Strana 680 - 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!
Strana 679 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes ; and thus far hear me, Cromwell, And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee ; Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, — Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; A sure and safe one,...
Strana 514 - Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity. And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Strana 418 - To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand fold it doth. And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Strana 63 - On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth So great an object: can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France? or may we cram Within this wooden O the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt?
Strana 145 - Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice, In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances * ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side ; His youthful...
Strana 679 - 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.
Strana 418 - So many years ere I shall shear the fleece ; So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely ! Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O, yes it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth.