CymbelineMacmillan, 1913 - 192 sider |
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Side 7
... Post . daughter , After the slander of most stepmothers , Evil - ey'd unto you . You're my prisoner , but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys 70 That lock up your restraint . For you , Posthu- mus , So soon as I can win the offended ...
... Post . daughter , After the slander of most stepmothers , Evil - ey'd unto you . You're my prisoner , but Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys 70 That lock up your restraint . For you , Posthu- mus , So soon as I can win the offended ...
Side 8
William Shakespeare Will David Howe. Post . Can tickle where she wounds ! My dearest hus- band , 85 I something fear my father's wrath ; but noth- ing Always reserv'd my holy duty ... Post . But he does buy my injuries , to 8 Act I Cymbeline.
William Shakespeare Will David Howe. Post . Can tickle where she wounds ! My dearest hus- band , 85 I something fear my father's wrath ; but noth- ing Always reserv'd my holy duty ... Post . But he does buy my injuries , to 8 Act I Cymbeline.
Side 9
... Post . Were you but riding forth to air yourself , 110 Such parting were too petty . Look here , love ; This diamond was my mother's . Take it , heart ; But keep it till you woo another wife , When Imogen is dead . How , how ! another ...
... Post . Were you but riding forth to air yourself , 110 Such parting were too petty . Look here , love ; This diamond was my mother's . Take it , heart ; But keep it till you woo another wife , When Imogen is dead . How , how ! another ...
Side 10
... Post . The gods protect you ! And bless the good remainders of the court ! Imo . Cym . Imo . Cym . I am gone . Exit . There cannot be a pinch in death 130 More sharp than this is . O disloyal thing , That shouldst repair my youth , thou ...
... Post . The gods protect you ! And bless the good remainders of the court ! Imo . Cym . Imo . Cym . I am gone . Exit . There cannot be a pinch in death 130 More sharp than this is . O disloyal thing , That shouldst repair my youth , thou ...
Side 18
... Post . Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies , which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still . French . Sir , you o'er - rate my poor kindness . I was glad I did atone my countryman and you . It had been pity you should ...
... Post . Since when I have been debtor to you for courtesies , which I will be ever to pay and yet pay still . French . Sir , you o'er - rate my poor kindness . I was glad I did atone my countryman and you . It had been pity you should ...
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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...