The complete works of Shakspere, with a memoir, and essay, by Barry Cornwall. Historical and critical studies of Shakspere's text [&c.] by R.G. White, R.H. Horne, and other writers, 3 tomas |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 15 iš 75
10 psl.
... poor boy , he weeps . Const . Now shame upon you , whe'r she does or nc . His grandam's wrongs , and not his mother's shames GENT ! Draw those heaven - moving pearls from his poor eyes , Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee : Ay ...
... poor boy , he weeps . Const . Now shame upon you , whe'r she does or nc . His grandam's wrongs , and not his mother's shames GENT ! Draw those heaven - moving pearls from his poor eyes , Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee : Ay ...
15 psl.
... poor maid of that ) ; That smooth - faced gentleman , tickling commo- dity , - Commodity , the bias of the world ; The world , who of itself is peiséd well , Made to run even , upon even ground , Till this advantage , this vile drawing ...
... poor maid of that ) ; That smooth - faced gentleman , tickling commo- dity , - Commodity , the bias of the world ; The world , who of itself is peiséd well , Made to run even , upon even ground , Till this advantage , this vile drawing ...
53 psl.
... poor , it ends a mortal woe . K. Rich . The ripest fruit first falls , and so doth he : His time is spent ; our pilgrimage must be . So much for that . - Now for our Irish wars : We must supplant those rough rug - headed kerns , Which ...
... poor , it ends a mortal woe . K. Rich . The ripest fruit first falls , and so doth he : His time is spent ; our pilgrimage must be . So much for that . - Now for our Irish wars : We must supplant those rough rug - headed kerns , Which ...
54 psl.
... poor Bolingbroke About his marriage , nor my own disgrace , Have ever made me sour my patient cheek , Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face .-- I am the last of noble Edward's sons , Of whom thy father , Prince of Wales , was first ...
... poor Bolingbroke About his marriage , nor my own disgrace , Have ever made me sour my patient cheek , Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face .-- I am the last of noble Edward's sons , Of whom thy father , Prince of Wales , was first ...
55 psl.
... poor Bolingbroke About his marriage , nor my own disgrace , Have ever made me sour my patient cheek , Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.- I am the last of noble Edward's sons , Of whom thy father , Prince of Wales , was first ...
... poor Bolingbroke About his marriage , nor my own disgrace , Have ever made me sour my patient cheek , Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.- I am the last of noble Edward's sons , Of whom thy father , Prince of Wales , was first ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Alarum arms art thou Bardolph bear blood Boling breath brother Buck Buckingham Cade Clarence cousin crown dead death dost doth Duch Duke Duke of York Earl Edward Eliz England Exeunt Exit eyes fair Falstaff father fear France friends Gent gentle give Gloster Goths grace grief hand hath head hear heart heaven Holinshed honour house of Lancaster house of York KING HENRY King's lady live look lord lord of Westmorland madam majesty master ne'er never night noble Northumberland peace Pericles Pist play poor pray prince Queen Reignier Rich Richard RICHARD PLANTAGENET Scene Shakespeare Shakspere shame shew Sir John soldiers Somerset sorrow soul speak Stratford Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tears tell thee thine thou art thou hast thought tongue traitor uncle unto Warwick weep wilt words York
Populiarios ištraukos
48 psl. - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Feared by their breed, and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...
308 psl. - 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.
56 psl. - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be...
543 psl. - CXLVI. Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay ? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge ? Is this thy body's end ? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store ; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross ; Within be fed,...
48 psl. - Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, Like to a tenement or pelting farm : England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds : That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
83 psl. - My liege, I did deny no prisoners. But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly...
406 psl. - Go, get thee from me, Cromwell ; I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master : Seek the king ; That sun, I pray, may never set ! I have told him What, and how true thou art : he will advance thee : Some little memory of me will stir him (I know his noble nature), not to let Thy hopeful service perish too : Good Cromwell, Neglect him not ; make use! now, and provide For thine own future safety.
532 psl. - gainst his glory fight, And time, that gave, doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, And delves the parallels in beauty's brow; Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow. And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
308 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. When this...
529 psl. - I'll read, his for his love." XXXIII Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace. Even so my sun one early morn did shine With all-triumphant splendour on my brow; But out, alack!