Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, Tragedies, and Poems, Bind 4Whittaker, 1858 |
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Side 12
... give away , and not their own . Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage , And purchase friends , and give to courtezans , Still revelling , like lords , till all be gone ; While as the silly owner of the goods Weeps over ...
... give away , and not their own . Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage , And purchase friends , and give to courtezans , Still revelling , like lords , till all be gone ; While as the silly owner of the goods Weeps over ...
Side 16
... give no words but mum ' : The business asketh silent secrecy . Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch : Gold cannot come amiss , were she a devil . Yet have I gold flies from another coast : I dare not say , from the rich cardinal ...
... give no words but mum ' : The business asketh silent secrecy . Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch : Gold cannot come amiss , were she a devil . Yet have I gold flies from another coast : I dare not say , from the rich cardinal ...
Side 20
... give his censure ' . 4 - These are no women's matters . to listen to THEIR lays , ] So the corr . fo . 1632 , and not " the lays " as in the folio , 1623 : it is clearly , though not necessarily , right , the abridgment of " their ...
... give his censure ' . 4 - These are no women's matters . to listen to THEIR lays , ] So the corr . fo . 1632 , and not " the lays " as in the folio , 1623 : it is clearly , though not necessarily , right , the abridgment of " their ...
Side 21
... Give me my fan : what , minion ! can you not ? I [ Giving the Duchess a box on the ear . cry you mercy , madam : was it you 1 ? Duch . Was't I ? yea , I it was , proud French - woman : Could I come near your beauty with my nails , I'd ...
... Give me my fan : what , minion ! can you not ? I [ Giving the Duchess a box on the ear . cry you mercy , madam : was it you 1 ? Duch . Was't I ? yea , I it was , proud French - woman : Could I come near your beauty with my nails , I'd ...
Side 38
... give me leave to go ; Sorrow would solace , and mine age would ease . K. Hen . Stay , Humphrey duke of Gloster . Ere thou go , Give up thy staff : Henry will to himself Protector be ; and God shall be my hope , My stay , my guide , and ...
... give me leave to go ; Sorrow would solace , and mine age would ease . K. Hen . Stay , Humphrey duke of Gloster . Ere thou go , Give up thy staff : Henry will to himself Protector be ; and God shall be my hope , My stay , my guide , and ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
4tos Achilles Ajax Aufidius blood brother Buck Buckingham Cade cardinal Catesby Clar Clarence Clif Clifford Cominius Coriolanus corr Cres Cressida crown death Diomed doth Duch duke duke of York edition Edward Eliz emendation Enter Exeunt Exit eyes father fear folio friends Gent give Gloster grace hath hear heart heaven Hect Hector Henry VI honour house of Lancaster Jack Cade King HENRY lady lord Lord Chamberlain madam Malone Marcius means misprint Murd never noble old annotator old copies Pandarus Patroclus peace pray prince queen Rich Richard Rome SCENE Shakespeare Somerset soul speak speech stage-direction stand Steevens Suffolk sweet sword tell thee Ther Thersites thine thou art Troilus Troilus and Cressida Troy True Tragedy Ulyss unto Warwick word York
Populære passager
Side 428 - 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 honours 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 431 - 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 431 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd 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, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee...
Side 497 - Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark ! what discord follows ; each thing meets In mere oppugnancy : the bounded waters Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, And make a sop of all this solid globe : Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead : Force should be right ; or rather, right and wrong, Between whose endless jar justice resides, Should lose their names, and so should justice too.
Side 429 - O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,* More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Side 428 - 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 for ever 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 345 - 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. 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 497 - What plagues, and what portents! what mutiny! What raging of the sea! shaking of earth! Commotion in the winds ! frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixture ! O, when degree is shak'd, Which is the ladder to all high designs, The enterprise is sick.
Side 151 - So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely ! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings, that fear their subjects
Side 211 - And so I was, which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother; And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me!