William Shakspeare's Complete Works, Dramatic and Poetic, 2 tomasS. Andrus and Son, 1852 |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–5 iš 100
3 psl.
... tears , And none but women left to wail the dead.- Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I invocate ; Prosper this realm , keep it from civil broils ! Combat with adverse planets in the heavens ! ( 2 ) There was a notion long prevalent , that ...
... tears , And none but women left to wail the dead.- Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I invocate ; Prosper this realm , keep it from civil broils ! Combat with adverse planets in the heavens ! ( 2 ) There was a notion long prevalent , that ...
4 psl.
... tears wanting to this funeral , These tidings would call forth her flowing tides . Bed . Me they concern ; regent I am of France : - Give me my steeled coat , I'll fight for France .-- Away with these disgraceful wailing robes ! Wounds ...
... tears wanting to this funeral , These tidings would call forth her flowing tides . Bed . Me they concern ; regent I am of France : - Give me my steeled coat , I'll fight for France .-- Away with these disgraceful wailing robes ! Wounds ...
16 psl.
... tears , And wash away thy country's stained spots ! Bur . Either she hath bewitch'd me with h words , Or nature makes me suddenly relent . Puc . Besides , all French and France exclaims on thee , Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny ...
... tears , And wash away thy country's stained spots ! Bur . Either she hath bewitch'd me with h words , Or nature makes me suddenly relent . Puc . Besides , all French and France exclaims on thee , Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny ...
28 psl.
... tears . Anjou and Maine ! myself did win them both ; Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer : And are the cities , that I got with wounds , Deliver'd up again with peaceful words ? Mort Dieu ! * York . For Suffolk's duke - may ...
... tears . Anjou and Maine ! myself did win them both ; Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer : And are the cities , that I got with wounds , Deliver'd up again with peaceful words ? Mort Dieu ! * York . For Suffolk's duke - may ...
31 psl.
... Tears the petition .. ' Away , base cullions ! -Suffolk , let them go . * All . Come , let's be gone . [ Exeunt Petitioners . * Q . Mar. My lord of Suffolk , say , is this the 6 ' Duch . Was't I ? yea , I. That she will light to listen ...
... Tears the petition .. ' Away , base cullions ! -Suffolk , let them go . * All . Come , let's be gone . [ Exeunt Petitioners . * Q . Mar. My lord of Suffolk , say , is this the 6 ' Duch . Was't I ? yea , I. That she will light to listen ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Achilles Ajax Alarum Antony Apem Apemantus arms art thou bear blood brother Brutus Cæsar Cassio Cleo Coriolanus Cres crown Cymbeline daughter dead dear death Desdemona Diomed dost doth duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair farewell father fear fool friends Gent gentle give Gloster gods grace grief hand hath hear heart heaven hither honour i'the Iago Julius Cæsar Kent king lady Laertes Lear live look lord Lucius madam Mark Antony ne'er never night noble o'the Othello Pandarus Patroclus peace Pericles poor pr'ythee pray prince queen Rich Rome Romeo SCENE shame soldiers Somerset soul speak stand Suff Suffolk sweet sword tears tell thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast tongue Troilus Tybalt unto villain Warwick weep What's wilt words York
Populiarios ištraukos
437 psl. - 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.
386 psl. - I'll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, — Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out; — And take...
242 psl. - 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 ; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him : For I have neither wit...
408 psl. - It was the lark , the herald of the morn , No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
135 psl. - 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...
85 psl. - 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.
134 psl. - 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.
66 psl. - God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
92 psl. - 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.
435 psl. - 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.