CymbelineMacmillan, 1913 - 192 sider |
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Side 7
... , pitying The pangs of barr'd affections , though the King Hath charg'd you should not speak together . Dissembling courtesy ! How fine this tyrant Exit . Post . Can tickle where she wounds ! My dearest Sc . I 7 Cymbeline.
... , pitying The pangs of barr'd affections , though the King Hath charg'd you should not speak together . Dissembling courtesy ! How fine this tyrant Exit . Post . Can tickle where she wounds ! My dearest Sc . I 7 Cymbeline.
Side 9
... [ Exit . ] Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live , The loathness to depart would grow . Adieu ! Imo . Nay , stay a little ; Post . Were you but riding forth to air yourself , 110 Such parting were too petty ...
... [ Exit . ] Should we be taking leave As long a term as yet we have to live , The loathness to depart would grow . Adieu ! Imo . Nay , stay a little ; Post . Were you but riding forth to air yourself , 110 Such parting were too petty ...
Side 10
... Exit . There cannot be a pinch in death 130 More sharp than this is . O disloyal thing , That shouldst repair my youth , thou heap'st A year's age on me . I beseech you , sir , Harm not yourself with your vexation . I am senseless of ...
... Exit . There cannot be a pinch in death 130 More sharp than this is . O disloyal thing , That shouldst repair my youth , thou heap'st A year's age on me . I beseech you , sir , Harm not yourself with your vexation . I am senseless of ...
Side 26
... Exit . Queen . Weeps she still , say'st thou ? Dost thou think in time She will not quench and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses ? Do thou work . When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son , I'll tell thee on the ...
... Exit . Queen . Weeps she still , say'st thou ? Dost thou think in time She will not quench and let instructions enter Where folly now possesses ? Do thou work . When thou shalt bring me word she loves my son , I'll tell thee on the ...
Side 28
... Exit Pisanio . A sly and constant knave , Not to be shak'd ; the agent for his master 76 And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand - fast to her lord . I have given him that Which , if he take , shall quite unpeople her Of liegers ...
... Exit Pisanio . A sly and constant knave , Not to be shak'd ; the agent for his master 76 And the remembrancer of her to hold The hand - fast to her lord . I have given him that Which , if he take , shall quite unpeople her Of liegers ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Arviragus Attendants Augustus Cæsar banish'd Belarius beseech blood Britain Britons brother Cadwal Cæsar call'd Cassibelan cave Cloten conj court Cymbeline's palace dead death do't doth Dowden Enter Cymbeline Enter Pisanio Enter Posthumus Exeunt Exit eyes false father fear fessor of English fool Gaol Gaoler garment Gent gentleman gods Guiderius hast hath hear heart heavens Holinshed honour Iach Iachimo is't Julius Cæsar Jupiter King lady leave Leonatus look lord Lud's madam master Milford-Haven mistress mother noble on't Ph.D Philario Philaster play poison'd Polydore Post pray princely prisoner Prithee Professor of Eng Professor of English Queen Re-enter ring Roman Rome SCENE Shakespeare shalt Sici speak stand sword ta'en tender thank thee there's thing thou art true turn'd villain wager What's WILLIAM ALLAN NEILSON Wilt Winter's Tale
Populære passager
Side 76 - tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
Side 111 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ; Care no more to clothe, and eat ; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Side 71 - What should we speak of When we are old as you ? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December, how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away ? We have seen nothing...
Side 109 - Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...