CymbelineMacmillan, 1913 - 192 sider |
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Resultater 1-5 af 19
Side 9
... mother's . Take it , heart ; But keep it till you woo another wife , When Imogen is dead . How , how ! another ? You gentle gods , give me but this I have , 115 And cere up my embracements from a next With bonds of death ! [ Putting on ...
... mother's . Take it , heart ; But keep it till you woo another wife , When Imogen is dead . How , how ! another ? You gentle gods , give me but this I have , 115 And cere up my embracements from a next With bonds of death ! [ Putting on ...
Side 40
... mother . Every Jack - slave hath his bellyful of fighting , and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match . 2. Lord . [ Aside . ] You are cock and capon too ; and you crow , cock , with your comb on . Clo . Sayest thou ? 2 ...
... mother . Every Jack - slave hath his bellyful of fighting , and I must go up and down like a cock that nobody can match . 2. Lord . [ Aside . ] You are cock and capon too ; and you crow , cock , with your comb on . Clo . Sayest thou ? 2 ...
Side 41
... mother Should yield the world this ass ! A woman that Bears all down with her brain ; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty , for his heart , 60 And leave eighteen . Alas , poor princess , Thou divine Imogen , what thou endur'st ...
... mother Should yield the world this ass ! A woman that Bears all down with her brain ; and this her son Cannot take two from twenty , for his heart , 60 And leave eighteen . Alas , poor princess , Thou divine Imogen , what thou endur'st ...
Side 46
... mother ! Cym . Attend you here the door of our stern daughter ? Will she not forth ? Clo . I have assail'd her with musics , but she vouchsafes no notice . Cym . The exile of her minion is too new ; She hath not yet forgot him . Some ...
... mother ! Cym . Attend you here the door of our stern daughter ? Will she not forth ? Clo . I have assail'd her with musics , but she vouchsafes no notice . Cym . The exile of her minion is too new ; She hath not yet forgot him . Some ...
Side 51
... , sir . 155 If you will make't an action , call witness to't . Clo . I will inform your father . Imo . Your mother too . She's my good lady , and will conceive , I hope , But the worst of me . So , I leave Sc . III 51 Cymbeline.
... , sir . 155 If you will make't an action , call witness to't . Clo . I will inform your father . Imo . Your mother too . She's my good lady , and will conceive , I hope , But the worst of me . So , I leave Sc . III 51 Cymbeline.
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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...