The Works of Shakespear: King Henry VI, pt. II-III. King Richard III. King Henry VIIIRobert Martin, 1768 |
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Rezultatai 6–10 iš 57
64 psl.
... Mover of the heav'ns , Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ; Ob , beat away the bufy , medling , fiend , That That lays ftrong fiege unto this wretch's foul , And 64 The Second Part of King HENRY VI . SCENE X. ...
... Mover of the heav'ns , Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ; Ob , beat away the bufy , medling , fiend , That That lays ftrong fiege unto this wretch's foul , And 64 The Second Part of King HENRY VI . SCENE X. ...
75 psl.
... gentle words will not pre- vail , Affail them with the army of the King . Staf . Herald , away , and throughout every town Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade ; That thofe , which fly before the battle ends , May ( even in ...
... gentle words will not pre- vail , Affail them with the army of the King . Staf . Herald , away , and throughout every town Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade ; That thofe , which fly before the battle ends , May ( even in ...
104 psl.
... gentle Norfolk ; ftay by me , my lords ; And , foldiers , stay and lodge by me this night . [ They go up . War . And when the King comes , offer him no violence ; Uniels he leek to thrust you out by force . York . The Queen this day ...
... gentle Norfolk ; ftay by me , my lords ; And , foldiers , stay and lodge by me this night . [ They go up . War . And when the King comes , offer him no violence ; Uniels he leek to thrust you out by force . York . The Queen this day ...
105 psl.
... gentle Earl of Westmorland . Clif . Patience is for poltroons , and fuch is he : He durft not fit there , had your father liv'd . My gracious lord , here in the Parliament Let us affail the Family of York . North . Well haft thou spoken ...
... gentle Earl of Westmorland . Clif . Patience is for poltroons , and fuch is he : He durft not fit there , had your father liv'd . My gracious lord , here in the Parliament Let us affail the Family of York . North . Well haft thou spoken ...
110 psl.
... gentle Queen , and I will stay . Queen . Who can be patient în fuch extremes ? Ah , wretched man ! would I had dy'd a maid , And never seen thee , never borne thee fon , Seeing thou haft prov'd fo unnatural a father . Hath he deferv'd ...
... gentle Queen , and I will stay . Queen . Who can be patient în fuch extremes ? Ah , wretched man ! would I had dy'd a maid , And never seen thee , never borne thee fon , Seeing thou haft prov'd fo unnatural a father . Hath he deferv'd ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
againſt Anne Becauſe blood brother Buck Buckingham buſineſs Cade Cardinal Catef Catesby caufe Cham Clar Clarence Clif Clifford confcience Crown curfe death doft doth Duke of Norfolk Duke of York Edward Elean England Enter King Exeunt Exit faid father fear fhall fhame fhould fight flain foldiers fome forrow foul fpeak France friends ftand ftay ftill fuch fweet fword Glofter Grace gracious haft Haftings hath hear heart heav'n Highneſs himſelf honour Houſe Humphry Jack Cade King Henry lady live lord Lord Chamberlain Madam mafter Majefty moft muft muſt myſelf noble pleaſe pleaſure Poft pray prefent Prince Queen reft Rich Richard Richard Plantagenet ſay SCENE ſhall Sir Thomas Lovel Somerfet ſpeak Suffolk tell thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou art thouſand unto Warwick whofe wife
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136 psl. - So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will...
379 psl. - Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
376 psl. - This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
136 psl. - O 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.
376 psl. - 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.
377 psl. - Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
136 psl. - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself...
136 psl. - ... Would I were dead, if God's good will were so. For what is in this world but grief and woe ? O 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...
224 psl. - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that with the very noise, I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell; Such terrible impression made my dream.
199 psl. - That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; 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.