Elizabethan Drama: With Introductions and NotesP.F. Collier, 1910 - Počet stran: 899 |
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Strana 12
... grace . LAN . His countenance bewrays he is displeas'd . A. OF CANT . First were his sacred garments rent and torn , Then laid they violent hands upon him ; next Himself imprisoned , and his goods asseiz'd : This certify the Pope ...
... grace . LAN . His countenance bewrays he is displeas'd . A. OF CANT . First were his sacred garments rent and torn , Then laid they violent hands upon him ; next Himself imprisoned , and his goods asseiz'd : This certify the Pope ...
Strana 14
... grace doth well to place him by your side , For nowhere else the new earl is so safe . E. MOR . What man of noble birth can brook this sight ? Quam male conveniunt ! See what a scornful look the peasant casts ! PEM . Can kingly lions ...
... grace doth well to place him by your side , For nowhere else the new earl is so safe . E. MOR . What man of noble birth can brook this sight ? Quam male conveniunt ! See what a scornful look the peasant casts ! PEM . Can kingly lions ...
Strana 18
... grace must pardon me . K. Edw . Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer , And by thy means is Gaveston exil'd ; But I would wish thee reconcile the lords , Or thou shalt ne'er be reconcil'd to me . Q. ISAB . Your highness knows it lies ...
... grace must pardon me . K. Edw . Thou art too familiar with that Mortimer , And by thy means is Gaveston exil'd ; But I would wish thee reconcile the lords , Or thou shalt ne'er be reconcil'd to me . Q. ISAB . Your highness knows it lies ...
Strana 19
... grace ? Q. ISAB . Ah , Mortimer ! now breaks the king's hate forth , And he confesseth that he loves me not . Y. MOR . Cry quittance , madam , then ; and love not him . Q. ISAB . No , rather will I die a thousand deaths ! And yet I love ...
... grace ? Q. ISAB . Ah , Mortimer ! now breaks the king's hate forth , And he confesseth that he loves me not . Y. MOR . Cry quittance , madam , then ; and love not him . Q. ISAB . No , rather will I die a thousand deaths ! And yet I love ...
Strana 23
... grace . K. EDW . In solemn triumphs , and in public shows , Pembroke shall bear the sword before the king . PEM . And with this sword Pembroke will fight for you . K. Edw . But wherefore walks young Mortimer aside ? Be thou commander of ...
... grace . K. EDW . In solemn triumphs , and in public shows , Pembroke shall bear the sword before the king . PEM . And with this sword Pembroke will fight for you . K. Edw . But wherefore walks young Mortimer aside ? Be thou commander of ...
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ARIEL Baldock Banquo blood brother Caliban castle Cordelia CORN daughter dead dear death dost thou doth Duke Earl Edmund England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes farewell father fear Fleance FOOL Fortinbras foul France friends Gaveston GENT give GLOU Gloucester grace grief GUILDENSTERN Hamlet hand hath HC XLVI head hear heart heaven hither honour Horatio ISAB KENT KING EDWARD LADY LAER Laertes Lancaster LEAR live look lord MACB Macbeth MACD Macduff madam majesty monster murder night noble o'er Ophelia poison'd POLONIUS poor pray prithee PROS QUEEN Re-enter Regan Ross SCENE sister sleep Soldiers soul speak SPEN Spencer strange sweet sword Sycorax tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast traitor TRIN unto villain WITCH Young MORTIMER МАСВ
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 137 - ... twere, the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.
Strana 310 - This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good: if ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor: If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature?
Strana 129 - peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd ; Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing...
Strana 105 - 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 ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine...
Strana 317 - s here in double trust : First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
Strana 320 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Strana 433 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I : In a cowslip's bell I lie ; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Strana 138 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.—Something too much of this...
Strana 245 - If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely : touch me with noble anger ! And let not women's weapons, water-drops, Stain my man's cheeks !— No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things — What they are yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth.
Strana 182 - Alas, poor Yorick ! I knew him, Horatio : a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy : he hath borne me on his back a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is ! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.