The Pictorial edition of the works of Shakspere, ed. by C. Knight. [8 vols., including a vol. entitled William Shakspere, by C. Knight]. [8 vols. The vol. containing the biogr. is of the 3rd ed.]. |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 100
16 psl.
... thou hast shown , с Doth add more grief to too much of mine own . Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs ; Being purg'd , a fire sparkling in lovers ' eyes ; Being vex'd , a sea nourish'd with loving tears : What is it else ? a ...
... thou hast shown , с Doth add more grief to too much of mine own . Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs ; Being purg'd , a fire sparkling in lovers ' eyes ; Being vex'd , a sea nourish'd with loving tears : What is it else ? a ...
18 psl.
... thou fall upon thy face ? Thou wilt fall backward , when thou hast more wit ; Wilt thou not , Jule ? and , by my holy dam , The pretty wretch left crying , and said — Ay . To see now , how a jest shall come about ! I warrant , an I ...
... thou fall upon thy face ? Thou wilt fall backward , when thou hast more wit ; Wilt thou not , Jule ? and , by my holy dam , The pretty wretch left crying , and said — Ay . To see now , how a jest shall come about ! I warrant , an I ...
33 psl.
... thou not Romeo , and a Montague ? Rom . Neither , fair maid , if either thee dislike . " Jul . How cam'st thou ... hast heard me speak to- night . Fain would I dwell on form , fain , fain deny What I have spoke . But farewell compliment ! h ...
... thou not Romeo , and a Montague ? Rom . Neither , fair maid , if either thee dislike . " Jul . How cam'st thou ... hast heard me speak to- night . Fain would I dwell on form , fain , fain deny What I have spoke . But farewell compliment ! h ...
36 psl.
... Thou hast most kindly hit it . Rom . A most courteous exposition . Mer . Nay , I am the very pink of courtesy . Rom . Pink for flower . Mer . Right . Rom . Why , then is my pump well flowered . Mer . Sure wit . Follow me this jest now ...
... Thou hast most kindly hit it . Rom . A most courteous exposition . Mer . Nay , I am the very pink of courtesy . Rom . Pink for flower . Mer . Right . Rom . Why , then is my pump well flowered . Mer . Sure wit . Follow me this jest now ...
39 psl.
William Shakespeare Charles Knight. Jul . How art thou out of breath , when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath ? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse . Is thy news ...
William Shakespeare Charles Knight. Jul . How art thou out of breath , when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath ? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse . Is thy news ...
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Achilles Ajax Alcibiades Antony Apem Apemantus Banquo blood Brutus Cæsar called Cassio copy Coriolanus Cres Cressida Cymbeline daughter dead dear death Desdemona dost doth edition Enter Exeunt Exit eyes father fear folio follow fool friends give gods Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven Hector honour Iach Iago ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT Juliet Julius Cæsar Kent king lady Lear look lord Macb Macbeth Macd madam Malone Marcius Mark Antony means nature never night noble Nurse original Othello Pandarus passage play poet Polonius poor pray quarto Queen Roman Rome Romeo Romeo and Juliet SCENE senate servant Shakspere Shakspere's soul speak speech stand Steevens sweet sword tell thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast thought Timon Troilus Troilus and Cressida Tybalt Ulyss unto villain word
Populiarios ištraukos
127 psl. - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
424 psl. - Stain my man's cheeks !— No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things — What they are yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth. You think...
155 psl. - Alas, poor Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy : he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar ? Not one now, to mock your own grinning ? quite chap-fallen ? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell...
87 psl. - But when the planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What plagues and what portents, what mutiny, What raging of the sea, shaking of earth, Commotion in the winds! Frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate, The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture!
122 psl. - What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her ? What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have ? He would drown the stage with tears And cleave the general ear with horrid speech, Make mad the guilty and appal the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed The very faculties of eyes and ears.
54 psl. - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
16 psl. - Hath borne his faculties so meek," hath been . So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off : And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.
104 psl. - That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month, Let me not think on't: Frailty, thy name is woman!
122 psl. - O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his visage wann'd...
129 psl. - O, it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod: Pray you, avoid it.