The Plays of William Shakspeare: King Henry VIII ; Troilus and Cressida ; Timon of Athens ; CoriolanusJ. Nichols, 1811 |
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Seite 20
... hand on his dagger , Another spread on his breast , mounting his eyes , He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenour Was , Were he evil us'd , he would out - go His father , by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose . K ...
... hand on his dagger , Another spread on his breast , mounting his eyes , He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenour Was , Were he evil us'd , he would out - go His father , by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose . K ...
Seite 23
... hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ; His dews fall every where . Cham . No doubt , he's noble ; He had a black mouth , that said other of him . Sands . He may , my lord , he has wherewithal ; in him , Sparing would show a worse ...
... hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ; His dews fall every where . Cham . No doubt , he's noble ; He had a black mouth , that said other of him . Sands . He may , my lord , he has wherewithal ; in him , Sparing would show a worse ...
Seite 27
... hand I ever touch'd ! O , beauty , Till now I never knew thee . Wol . My lord , Cham . [ Musick . Dance . Your grace ? Wol . Pray , tell them thus much from me : There should be one amongst them , by his person , More worthy this place ...
... hand I ever touch'd ! O , beauty , Till now I never knew thee . Wol . My lord , Cham . [ Musick . Dance . Your grace ? Wol . Pray , tell them thus much from me : There should be one amongst them , by his person , More worthy this place ...
Seite 39
... hand : much joy and favour to you ; You are the king's now . Gard . But to be commanded For ever by your grace , whose hand has rais'd me . K. Hen . Come hither , Gardiner . [ Aside . [ They converse apart . Cam . My lord of York , was ...
... hand : much joy and favour to you ; You are the king's now . Gard . But to be commanded For ever by your grace , whose hand has rais'd me . K. Hen . Come hither , Gardiner . [ Aside . [ They converse apart . Cam . My lord of York , was ...
Seite 63
... hand , in his bedchamber . Wol . Look'd he o'the inside of the paper ? Crom . Presently He did unseal them ; and the first he view'd He did it with a serious mind ; a heed Was in his countenance : You , he bade Attend him here this ...
... hand , in his bedchamber . Wol . Look'd he o'the inside of the paper ? Crom . Presently He did unseal them ; and the first he view'd He did it with a serious mind ; a heed Was in his countenance : You , he bade Attend him here this ...
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Achilles Æneas Agam Agamemnon Ajax Alcib Alcibiades Antenor Antium Apem Apemantus Athens Aufidius bear beseech blood Calchas cardinal Cham Cominius Coriolanus Cres Cressid Crom Diomed dost doth duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell fear fellow Flav fool friends Gent give gods grace Grecian Greeks hate hath hear heart heaven Hect Hector Helen honour i'the Kath king king's lady Lart Lartius look Lord Chamberlain lord Timon madam Marcius Menelaus Menenius musick ne'er Nestor never noble o'the Pandarus Patr Patroclus peace Pr'ythee pray Priam prince queen Rome SCENE Senators Serv Servant Sir Thomas Lovell soul speak stand Suff sweet sword tell thank thee Ther there's Thersites thine thing thou art thou hast Timon to't tongue Troilus Trojan Troy true trumpet Ulyss voices Volces What's word worthy
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 173 - Take the instant way, For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast ; keep, then, the path ; For Emulation hath a thousand sons That one by one pursue ; if you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost.
Seite 281 - Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant. Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench...
Seite 70 - 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.
Seite 130 - Force should be right; or rather, right and wrong, Between whose endless jar justice resides, Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then...
Seite 70 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory ; 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.
Seite 104 - Her own shall bless her: Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her; In her days every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine what he plants, and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.
Seite 173 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
Seite 72 - 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!
Seite 401 - I loved the maid I married ; never man Sigh'd truer breath ; but that I see thee here, Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart Than when I first my wedded mistress saw Bestride my threshold.
Seite 425 - What have you done ? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother ! O ! You have won a happy victory to Rome ; But, for your son, — believe it, O, believe it, — Most dangerously you have with him prevailed, If not most mortal to him.