Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet. Othello. Glossarial indexJ. Nichols, 1811 |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 32
126 psl.
... Horatio , Friend to Hamlet . Laertes , Son to Polonius . Voltimand , Cornelius , Resencrantz , Guildenstern , Courtiers . Osric , a Courtier . Another Courtier . A Priest . Marcellus , Bernardo , Officers . Francisco , a Soldier ...
... Horatio , Friend to Hamlet . Laertes , Son to Polonius . Voltimand , Cornelius , Resencrantz , Guildenstern , Courtiers . Osric , a Courtier . Another Courtier . A Priest . Marcellus , Bernardo , Officers . Francisco , a Soldier ...
127 psl.
... . Well , good night . Not a mouse stirring . If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus , me : ] i.e. me who am already on the watch , and have a right to demand the watch - word . The rivals of my watch , 2 bid them make HAMLET, ...
... . Well , good night . Not a mouse stirring . If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus , me : ] i.e. me who am already on the watch , and have a right to demand the watch - word . The rivals of my watch , 2 bid them make HAMLET, ...
128 psl.
... Horatio there ? Hor . A piece of him . Ber . Welcome , Horatio ; welcome , good Mar- cellus . Hor . What , has this thing appear'd again to- night ? Ber . I have seen nothing . Mar. Horatio says , ' tis but our fantasy ; And will not ...
... Horatio there ? Hor . A piece of him . Ber . Welcome , Horatio ; welcome , good Mar- cellus . Hor . What , has this thing appear'd again to- night ? Ber . I have seen nothing . Mar. Horatio says , ' tis but our fantasy ; And will not ...
129 psl.
... Horatio . * Ber . Looks it not like the king ? mark it , Ho- ratio . Hor . Most like : —it harrows me ' with fear , and wonder . Ber . It would be spoke to . Mar. Speak to it , Horatio . Hor . What art thou , that usurp'st this time of ...
... Horatio . * Ber . Looks it not like the king ? mark it , Ho- ratio . Hor . Most like : —it harrows me ' with fear , and wonder . Ber . It would be spoke to . Mar. Speak to it , Horatio . Hor . What art thou , that usurp'st this time of ...
130 psl.
William Shakespeare Alexander Chalmers. Ber . How now , Horatio ? you tremble , and look pale : Is not this something more than fantasy ? What think you of it ? Hor . Before my God , I might not this believe ... Horatio? you tremble, ...
William Shakespeare Alexander Chalmers. Ber . How now , Horatio ? you tremble , and look pale : Is not this something more than fantasy ? What think you of it ? Hor . Before my God , I might not this believe ... Horatio? you tremble, ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ancient art thou BENVOLIO blood Brabantio CAPULET Cassio Cyprus daughter dead dear death Denmark Desdemona devil dost thou doth Emil EMILIA Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell father fear Fortinbras friar Friar LAURENCE gentleman give grief Guil GUILDENSTERN Hamlet hand hath hear heart heaven hither honest honour Horatio i'the Iago is't JOHNSON Juliet kill'd King lady Laer Laertes live look lord madam Mantua married means Mercutio Michael Cassio Montague Moor murder never night noble Nurse o'er Ophelia Othello play POLONIUS pray Prince Queen Roderigo Romeo ROSENCRANTZ ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN SCENE Shakspeare Shakspeare's signifies soul speak STEEVENS sweet sword tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought to-night Tybalt Venice villain weep wife wilt word
Populiarios ištraukos
213 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.
355 psl. - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
134 psl. - It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long : % And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
148 psl. - Are most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all : to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
221 psl. - See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
190 psl. - I have heard That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
193 psl. - To die, to sleep : To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause : there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life...
282 psl. - Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me ! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.
41 psl. - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke : but farewell compliment ! Dost thou love me ? I know thou wilt say " Ay ;" And I will take thy word : yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false ; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
138 psl. - Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods...