The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Richard III. Henry VIII. Troilus and Cressida. Timon of Athens. CoriolanusHilliard, Gray,, 1839 |
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Side 244
... ÆNEAS , Trojan Commanders . ANTENOR , CALCHAS , a Trojan Priest , taking part with the Greeks . PANDARUS , Uncle to Cressida . MARGARELON , a Bastard Son of Priam . AGAMEMNON , the Grecian General . MENELAUS , his Brother . ACHILLES ...
... ÆNEAS , Trojan Commanders . ANTENOR , CALCHAS , a Trojan Priest , taking part with the Greeks . PANDARUS , Uncle to Cressida . MARGARELON , a Bastard Son of Priam . AGAMEMNON , the Grecian General . MENELAUS , his Brother . ACHILLES ...
Side 249
... , that of the country . But Shakspeare , following the Troy Book , gives that name to Priam's palace , said to have been built upon a high rock . VOL . V. 32 Alarum . Enter ÆNEAS . Æne . How now , SC . I. ] 249 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA .
... , that of the country . But Shakspeare , following the Troy Book , gives that name to Priam's palace , said to have been built upon a high rock . VOL . V. 32 Alarum . Enter ÆNEAS . Æne . How now , SC . I. ] 249 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA .
Side 250
... Æneas , from the field to - day ? Æne . That Paris is returned home , and hurt . Tro . By whom , Æneas ? Æne . Troilus , by Menelaus . Tro . Let Paris bleed : ' tis but a scar to scorn ; Paris is gored with Menelaus ' horn . [ Alarum ...
... Æneas , from the field to - day ? Æne . That Paris is returned home , and hurt . Tro . By whom , Æneas ? Æne . Troilus , by Menelaus . Tro . Let Paris bleed : ' tis but a scar to scorn ; Paris is gored with Menelaus ' horn . [ Alarum ...
Side 255
... ÆNEAS passes over the stage . Cres . Speak not so loud . Pan . That's Æneas ; is not that a brave man ? He's one of the flowers of Troy , I can tell you . But mark Troilus ; you shall see anon . ANTENOR passes over . Pan . That's ...
... ÆNEAS passes over the stage . Cres . Speak not so loud . Pan . That's Æneas ; is not that a brave man ? He's one of the flowers of Troy , I can tell you . But mark Troilus ; you shall see anon . ANTENOR passes over . Pan . That's ...
Side 265
... ÆNEAS . Men . From Troy . Agam . What would you ' fore our tent ? Æne . Is this Great Agamemnon's tent , I pray ? Agam . VOL . V. 34 Even this . Æne . May one , that is a herald , SC . III . ] 265 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA .
... ÆNEAS . Men . From Troy . Agam . What would you ' fore our tent ? Æne . Is this Great Agamemnon's tent , I pray ? Agam . VOL . V. 34 Even this . Æne . May one , that is a herald , SC . III . ] 265 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA .
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Achilles Æne Æneas Agam Agamemnon Ajax Alcib Alcibiades Anne Antium Apem Apemantus Aufidius bear beseech blood brother Buck Buckingham Calchas cardinal Catesby Clarence Cominius Coriolanus Cres Cressida curse death Diomed dost doth Duch duke Edward Eliz Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fear Flav fool friends Gent give Gloster gods grace hath hear heart Heaven Hect Hector Holinshed honor Kath King Henry King Henry VI lady live look lord Lord Chamberlain lord Hastings madam Marcius Menelaus Menenius mother Murd never noble old copy Pandarus Patroclus peace Poet pr'ythee pray Priam prince queen Rich Richmond Rome SCENE Senators Serv Servant Shakspeare soul speak sweet sword tell thee Ther There's Thersites thine thing thou art thou hast Timon Troilus Trojan Troy Ulyss unto Volces word
Populære passager
Side 33 - A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon ; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.
Side 201 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Side 183 - em, if thou canst : leave working. Song. Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Side 203 - O my lord ! Must I then leave you ? Must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master ? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. — •' The king shall have my service ; but my prayers, For ever and for ever, shall be yours.
Side 122 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty, guilty!
Side 204 - Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's : then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Side 32 - I have pass'da miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days : So full of dismal terror was the time.
Side 122 - Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? For any good That I myself have done unto myself? O, no, alas! I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain. Yet I lie; I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well. Fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Side 34 - Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud, ' What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...
Side 135 - I COME no more to make you laugh; things now, That bear a weighty and a serious brow, Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, We now present.