Cymbeline. Titus Andron. Pericles. K. Lear

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Estes and Lauriat, 1887
 

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Seite 488 - 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 ! O, 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.
Seite 558 - I'll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, — Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out; — And take...
Seite 552 - Be your tears wet? yes, faith. I pray, weep not: If you have poison for me, I will drink it. I know you do not love me; for your sisters Have, as I do remember, done me wrong: You have some cause, they have not. Cor. No cause, no cause.
Seite 124 - Fear no more the frown o' the great: Thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Seite 451 - Lear. It may be so, my lord. — Hear, nature, hear ! dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful ! Into her womb convey sterility ! Dry up in her the organs of increase; And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her ! If she must teem...
Seite 413 - On the stage we see nothing but corporal infirmities and weakness, the impotence of rage ; while we read it, we see not Lear, but we are Lear, — we are in his mind, we are sustained by a grandeur which baffles the "Malice of daughters and .storms.
Seite 573 - Pray you, undo this button : thank you, sir. — Do you see this ? Look on her, — look, — her lips, — Look there, look there ! — [He dies.
Seite 535 - Come on, sir; here's the place: stand still. How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs that wing the midway air Show scarce so gross as beetles: halfway down Hangs one that gathers samphire, dreadful trade!

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