CymbelineMacmillan, 1913 - 192 sider |
Fra bogen
Resultater 1-5 af 71
Side 9
... thou here While sense can keep it on . And , sweetest , fairest , As I my poor self did exchange for you , To your so infinite loss , so in our trifles I still win of you ; for my sake wear this . It is a manacle of love ; I'll place it ...
... thou here While sense can keep it on . And , sweetest , fairest , As I my poor self did exchange for you , To your so infinite loss , so in our trifles I still win of you ; for my sake wear this . It is a manacle of love ; I'll place it ...
Side 10
William Shakespeare Will David Howe. Cym . Thou basest thing , avoid ! Hence , from my sight ! If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness , thou diest . Away ! Thou'rt poison to my blood . 125 Post . The gods ...
William Shakespeare Will David Howe. Cym . Thou basest thing , avoid ! Hence , from my sight ! If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness , thou diest . Away ! Thou'rt poison to my blood . 125 Post . The gods ...
Side 11
... thou vile one ! Sir , It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus . You bred him as my playfellow , and he is A man worth any woman ; overbuys me Almost the sum he pays . 145 What , art thou mad ? Imo . Almost , sir ; heaven restore me ...
... thou vile one ! Sir , It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus . You bred him as my playfellow , and he is A man worth any woman ; overbuys me Almost the sum he pays . 145 What , art thou mad ? Imo . Almost , sir ; heaven restore me ...
Side 15
... thou grew'st unto the shores o ' the haven , And question'dst every sail . If he should write And I not have it , ' twere a paper lost , Pis . As offer'd mercy is . What was the last That he spake to thee ? It was his queen , his queen ...
... thou grew'st unto the shores o ' the haven , And question'dst every sail . If he should write And I not have it , ' twere a paper lost , Pis . As offer'd mercy is . What was the last That he spake to thee ? It was his queen , his queen ...
Side 24
... Thou ask'st me such a question . Have I not been Cor . Thy pupil long ? Hast thou not learn'd 24 Act I Cymbeline.
... Thou ask'st me such a question . Have I not been Cor . Thy pupil long ? Hast thou not learn'd 24 Act I Cymbeline.
Andre udgaver - Se alle
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...