King Henry VIII. CoriolanusPrinted for, and under the direction of, John Bell, 1788 |
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Side 99
... Kath . O , Griffith , sick to death : My legs , like loaded branches , bow to the earth , Willing to leave their burden : Reach a chair ; So now , methinks , I feel a little ease . 140 Didst thou not tell me , Griffith , as thou led'st ...
... Kath . O , Griffith , sick to death : My legs , like loaded branches , bow to the earth , Willing to leave their burden : Reach a chair ; So now , methinks , I feel a little ease . 140 Didst thou not tell me , Griffith , as thou led'st ...
Side 100
... Kath . So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him ! Yet thus far , Griffith , give me leave to speak him , And yet with charity - He was a man Of an unbounded stomach , ever ranking Himself with princes ; one , that by suggestion Ty ...
... Kath . So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him ! Yet thus far , Griffith , give me leave to speak him , And yet with charity - He was a man Of an unbounded stomach , ever ranking Himself with princes ; one , that by suggestion Ty ...
Side 101
... Kath . After my death I wish no other herald , No other speaker of my living actions , To keep mine honour from corruption , But such an honest chronicler as Griffith . Whom I most hated living , thou hast made me , With thy religious ...
... Kath . After my death I wish no other herald , No other speaker of my living actions , To keep mine honour from corruption , But such an honest chronicler as Griffith . Whom I most hated living , thou hast made me , With thy religious ...
Side 103
... Kath . It is not you I call for : Saw ye none enter , since I slept ? Grif . None , madam . Kath . No ! Saw you not , even now , a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet ; whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me , like the sun ...
... Kath . It is not you I call for : Saw ye none enter , since I slept ? Grif . None , madam . Kath . No ! Saw you not , even now , a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet ; whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me , like the sun ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Antium apostle spoons Aufidius bear Beaumont and Fletcher Ben Jonson beseech blood Buck Buckingham Caius Marcius Cardinal WOLSEY Cham Cominius conscience consul Coriolanus Corioli court Cran Cranmer Crom Cromwell dare duke enemies Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fear friends Gard give gods grace hath hear heart heaven Holinshed honour JOHNSON Kath king king's lady Lart LARTIUS lord cardinal Lord Chamberlain lov'd LOVEL madam malice MALONE Marcius mean Menenius mother never noble old copy passage peace play Plutarch poor Pr'ythee pray queen Roman Rome SCENE senate Serv Shakspere shew SICINIUS Sir Thomas Sir THOMAS LOVEL speak stand STEEVENS sword tell thank thee There's thing thou hast TITUS LARTIUS to't tongue tribunes truth unto voices Volsces Volscian VOLUMNIA WARBURTON wife Wolsey word worthy
Populære passager
Side 92 - 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 91 - 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...
Side 91 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble...
Side 88 - This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye : I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes...
Side 51 - Anne. So much the more Must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief And wear a golden sorrow.
Side 89 - Why, well ; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now ; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Side 14 - O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day ; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away ! Re-enter PANTHINO.
Side 91 - 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 96 - You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty! Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair! Have the power still To banish your defenders; till, at length, Your...
Side 89 - Long in his highness' favour, and do justice For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones, When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans