Cumberland's British Theatre: With Remarks, Biographical and Critical : Printed from the Acting Copies, as Performed at the Theatres-royal, London, Svazek 4John Cumberland, 1826 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 1-5 z 84
Strana 5
... Death of King John at Swinstead - Ab- bey . Imprinted at London , for Sampson Clarke , 1591. " Doctor Farmer conjectures that Rowley was the author of this piece ; but Malone , with greater reason , assigns it to Marlowe . A subsequent ...
... Death of King John at Swinstead - Ab- bey . Imprinted at London , for Sampson Clarke , 1591. " Doctor Farmer conjectures that Rowley was the author of this piece ; but Malone , with greater reason , assigns it to Marlowe . A subsequent ...
Strana 6
... death of Arthur ; and grief unutterable and past consolation , never produced an image more solemn and majestic than the follow- ing : - " To me , and to the state of my great grief , Let kings assemble- Here I and sorrow sit Here is my ...
... death of Arthur ; and grief unutterable and past consolation , never produced an image more solemn and majestic than the follow- ing : - " To me , and to the state of my great grief , Let kings assemble- Here I and sorrow sit Here is my ...
Strana 8
... death of John , in the orchard of Swin- stead Abbey , were equal to any thing that we remember of him . Mr. Young's King John ranks second to his Hamlet ; and Mr. Ma cready , in the part , seems to have some glimpse of the author's ...
... death of John , in the orchard of Swin- stead Abbey , were equal to any thing that we remember of him . Mr. Young's King John ranks second to his Hamlet ; and Mr. Ma cready , in the part , seems to have some glimpse of the author's ...
Strana 12
... death - bed he by will bequeath'd His lands to me ; and took it on his death That this , my mother's son , was none of his ; And , if he were , he came into the world Full fourteen weeks before the course of time : Then , good my liege ...
... death - bed he by will bequeath'd His lands to me ; and took it on his death That this , my mother's son , was none of his ; And , if he were , he came into the world Full fourteen weeks before the course of time : Then , good my liege ...
Strana 13
... death . Eli . Nay , I would have you go before me thither . Faul . Our country manners give our betters way . K. John . What is thy name ? Faul . Philip , my liege ; so is my name begun ; Philip , good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son ...
... death . Eli . Nay , I would have you go before me thither . Faul . Our country manners give our betters way . K. John . What is thy name ? Faul . Philip , my liege ; so is my name begun ; Philip , good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son ...
Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
alguazil Aman art thou Bates Beverley blood brother Char CHIG Colonel dear death devil door Dorn dost doth Enter Exeunt Exit Exit ENGLISH eyes Falstaff father Faul FAULCONBRIDGE fear Flora fortune Fred gentleman Gibby give Gold Goldfinch Hamlet hand HARRY DORNTON hath hear heart Heaven honour Horatio Hubert Isab Jarvis Jenny KING JOHN lady Laer Laertes Lewson Liss Lissardo look Lord F lordship Lory madam marry Miss H never night Nurse on't Ophelia PANDULPH Poins POLONIUS poor pr'ythee pray Prince Prince of Wales Queen SCENE servant Shakspeare Sir Tunbelly sirrah Smith Sophia soul speak Stuke Sulky sure sword tell thee there's thing thou art thou hast Trumpets villain Violante what's Widow woman Young F Zounds
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 49 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
Strana 18 - Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new reap'd, Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; He was perfumed like a milliner ; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and...
Strana 20 - Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane, O, answer me!
Strana 42 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Strana 21 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres...
Strana 22 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowne'd honour by the locks...
Strana 40 - Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better, my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious; with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in. imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
Strana 37 - For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players Play something like the murder of my father Before mine uncle; I'll observe his looks; I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench I know my course.
Strana 52 - See what a grace was seated on this brow : Hyperion's curls ; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Strana 49 - Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.