The Tragedy of CymbelineYale University Press, 1924 - 166 sider |
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Side 6
... Сут . That shouldst repair my youth , thou heap'st A year's age on me . Imo . I beseech you , sir , your vexation ; Harm not yourself with I am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs , all fears . Cym . 132 Past ...
... Сут . That shouldst repair my youth , thou heap'st A year's age on me . Imo . I beseech you , sir , your vexation ; Harm not yourself with I am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more rare Subdues all pangs , all fears . Cym . 132 Past ...
Side 125
... Сут . Does the world go round ? Wake , my mistress ! Post . How come these staggers on me ? Pis . Cym . If this be so , the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy . Pis . How fares my mistress ? 236 Imo . O ! get thee from ...
... Сут . Does the world go round ? Wake , my mistress ! Post . How come these staggers on me ? Pis . Cym . If this be so , the gods do mean to strike me To death with mortal joy . Pis . How fares my mistress ? 236 Imo . O ! get thee from ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Arviragus attending Augustus Cæsar Belarius beseech blood Britain Britons brother Cadwal Cæsar call'd Cave cere court Cymbeline's Palace daughter dead death doth Dowden Enter Cloten Enter Cymbeline Enter Imogen Enter Pisanio Enter Posthumus Exeunt Exit eyes false father fear Folio fool Gaol Gaoler garment Gent gentleman give gods Gordian knot Grace Guiderius hast hath hear heart heaven Hecuba honour Iach Iachimo Julius Cæsar Jupiter king lady leave Leonatus look lord madam master Milford-Haven mistress mother never noble play poison'd Polydore poor Post pray princely prisoner prithee Procne Queen ring Roman Scene Shakespeare shalt Sici speak stand story sweet sword ta'en tender Tereus thee there's thing thou art thyself tribute true villain wager What's Wilt Winter's Tale woman word worthy
Populære passager
Side 62 - 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 90 - 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...
Side 92 - 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.