King Lear: A Tragedy in Five Acts, 4 tomasLongman, Hurst, Rees, Orme and Brown, 1808 - 78 psl. |
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Rezultatai 15 iš 75
10 psl.
... Speak now our last , not least in our dear love , So ends my task of state , Cordelia , speak ; What canst thou say to win a richer third , Than what thy sisters gain'd ? Cord , Now must my love in words , fall short of theirs , As ...
... Speak now our last , not least in our dear love , So ends my task of state , Cordelia , speak ; What canst thou say to win a richer third , Than what thy sisters gain'd ? Cord , Now must my love in words , fall short of theirs , As ...
16 psl.
... speak more . If our father would sleep till I waked him , you should enjoy half his posses- sions , and live beloved of your brother . Sleep till I wak'd him , you should enjoy Half his possessions ! Edgar to write this ' Gainst his ...
... speak more . If our father would sleep till I waked him , you should enjoy half his posses- sions , and live beloved of your brother . Sleep till I wak'd him , you should enjoy Half his possessions ! Edgar to write this ' Gainst his ...
19 psl.
... Speak , does that frown become our presence ? Gon . Sir , this licentious insolence of your servants Is most unseemly ; hourly they break out In quarrels , bred by their unbounded riots ; I had fair hope , by making this known to you ...
... Speak , does that frown become our presence ? Gon . Sir , this licentious insolence of your servants Is most unseemly ; hourly they break out In quarrels , bred by their unbounded riots ; I had fair hope , by making this known to you ...
25 psl.
... speak . Osw . I'm scarce in breath , my lord . Kent . No marvel , you have so bestir'd your valour . Nature disclaims the dastard ; a tailor made him . Corn . Speak yet , how grew your quarrel ? Osw . Sir , this old ruffian here , whose ...
... speak . Osw . I'm scarce in breath , my lord . Kent . No marvel , you have so bestir'd your valour . Nature disclaims the dastard ; a tailor made him . Corn . Speak yet , how grew your quarrel ? Osw . Sir , this old ruffian here , whose ...
29 psl.
... speak with me ? Th'are sick , th'are weary , They've travell'd hard to - night Mere fetches , sir , Bring me a better answer . Glost . My dear lord , You know the fiery quality of the Duke . Lear . Vengeance ! death ! plague ! confusion ...
... speak with me ? Th'are sick , th'are weary , They've travell'd hard to - night Mere fetches , sir , Bring me a better answer . Glost . My dear lord , You know the fiery quality of the Duke . Lear . Vengeance ! death ! plague ! confusion ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
art thou ARVIRAGUS ATTENDANTS Banquo better blood Brutus Cæsar Caius call'd Casca Cassius Cawdor Char Charmian Cleo Cleopatra Cloten Cord Cordelia CYMBELINE daughter dead dear death Diom dost doth Edgar Edmund Enob ENOBARBUS Enter ANTONY Eros Exeunt Exit eyes farewell father fear FLEANCE fortunes friends Fulvia give Glost Gloster gods GONERIL Guard GUIDERIUS hand hath hear heart Heaven honour i'the Iach Imog Imogen is't Julius Cæsar Kent KING LEAR Lady look lord LUCIUS Macb Macbeth Macd MACDUFF madam Mark Antony master night noble o'the Octavius on't pardon peace Pisanio Pleb poor Post Posthumus pr'ythee pray queen Regan Roman Rome royal SCENE SEYTON sleep soldier speak sword tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast Thunder Thyr Trebonius twas villain What's Witch word worthy
Populiarios ištraukos
5 psl. - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus ; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
18 psl. - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
3 psl. - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that The winds were love-sick with them : the oars were silver; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
36 psl. - Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause ; and be silent that you may hear : believe me for mine honour; and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe: censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his.
77 psl. - Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me: Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks, I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come: Now to that name my courage prove my title ! I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to baser life.
39 psl. - I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er : Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.
59 psl. - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
38 psl. - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears ; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Caesar was ambitious : If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, For Brutus is an honourable man ; So are they all, all honourable men, Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
39 psl. - But yesterday, the word of Caesar might Have stood against the world ; now lies he there, And none so poor to do him reverence.
35 psl. - To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue, A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy...