The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare...: Embracing a Life of the Poet, and Notes, Original and Selected..., Band 7Phillips, Sampson, 1851 |
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Seite 24
... Exit . Edm . This is the excellent foppery of the world , that , when we are sick in fortune , ( often the surfeit of our own behavior , ) we make guilty of our disasters , the sun , the moon , and the stars ; as if we were villains by ...
... Exit . Edm . This is the excellent foppery of the world , that , when we are sick in fortune , ( often the surfeit of our own behavior , ) we make guilty of our disasters , the sun , the moon , and the stars ; as if we were villains by ...
Seite 26
... Exit EDGAR . A credulous father , and a brother noble , Whose nature is so far from doing harms , That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy ! -I see the business.- Let me , if not by birth , have lands by ...
... Exit EDGAR . A credulous father , and a brother noble , Whose nature is so far from doing harms , That he suspects none ; on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy ! -I see the business.- Let me , if not by birth , have lands by ...
Seite 28
... [ Exit an Attendant . ] How now , what art thou ? Kent . A man , sir . Lear . What dost thou profess ? thou with us ? What wouldst Kent . I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to serve him truly , that will put me in trust ; to love ...
... [ Exit an Attendant . ] How now , what art thou ? Kent . A man , sir . Lear . What dost thou profess ? thou with us ? What wouldst Kent . I do profess to be no less than I seem ; to serve him truly , that will put me in trust ; to love ...
Seite 29
... Exit . Lear . What says the fellow there ? Call the clot- poll back . - Where's my fool , ho ? -I think the world's asleep . How now ? where's that mongrel ? Knight . He says , my lord , your daughter is not well . Lear . Why came not ...
... Exit . Lear . What says the fellow there ? Call the clot- poll back . - Where's my fool , ho ? -I think the world's asleep . How now ? where's that mongrel ? Knight . He says , my lord , your daughter is not well . Lear . Why came not ...
Seite 37
... Exit . Alb . Now , gods , that we adore , whereof comes this ? Gon . Never afflict yourself to know the cause ; But let his disposition have that scope That dotage gives it . Re - enter LEAr . Lear . What , fifty of my followers at a ...
... Exit . Alb . Now , gods , that we adore , whereof comes this ? Gon . Never afflict yourself to know the cause ; But let his disposition have that scope That dotage gives it . Re - enter LEAr . Lear . What , fifty of my followers at a ...
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art thou BENVOLIO blood Brabantio CAPULET Cassio Child Rowland Cordelia Cyprus daughter dead dear death Desdemona dost thou doth duke Edmund Emil Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair farewell father fear folio reads fool Fortinbras friar Gent gentleman give Gloster GONERIL grief Hamlet hand hath hear heart Heaven Horatio Iago is't Juliet Kent king King Lear knave lady Laer Laertes Lear letter look lord madam Mantua marry matter means Mercutio Michael Cassio murder night noble Nurse o'er old copies Ophelia Othello play POLONIUS poor Pr'ythee pray quarto reads Queen Regan Roderigo Romeo SCENE Shakspeare soul speak speech Steevens sweet sword tell thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast to-night Tybalt Verona villain wife word
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 456 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
Seite 169 - But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she...
Seite 281 - I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
Seite 487 - A fixed figure for the time of scorn To point his slow, unmoving finger at! — Yet could I bear that, too; well, very well: But there, where I have garnered up my heart, Where either I must live, or bear no life, The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up; to be discarded thence!
Seite 335 - Look here, upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 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.
Seite 431 - As hell's from heaven. If it were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.
Seite 312 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Seite 197 - Romeo ; and, when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Seite 102 - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Seite 349 - Excitements of my reason, and my blood, And let all sleep ? while, to my shame, I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame, Go to their graves like beds...