Little Theater Classics: Shakuntala, by Kalidasa. The wandering scholar from paradise, by H. Sachs. All for love; or, The world well lost, by J. DrydenSamuel A. Eliot (Jr.) Little, Brown, 1922 |
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Abu Bakr ALEXAS Ali's Angels ANTONY ANUSUYA arms BHADRASENA BHARATA Brahman breast Caesar CHARMION CHATURIKA child CLEOPATRA dark dear death Dost thou drama dress Dryden Durvasas DUSHYANTA eyes face faith Father Kanva FATIMAH feet FISHERMAN flowers Gabriel Galava Gautami gauze girls give goes green grief grove hand HARITA head heart heaven hermitage hermits honor HOURI husband Iras IZRAÏL JANUKA Kalidasa Khalif king knees leave light looking lord lotus MADHAVYA Menaka MITRAVASU mother MUHAMMAD nymphs o'er OCTAVIA Oomar Paradise passion Persian play PRIYAMVADA Prophet queen ring Roman Salman Salman the Persian Scene SERAPION Shakuntala Shi'ahs shoulder sighs smiling Smith College SOMARATA soul stage stands SUCHAKA sword tazieh tears tell theater thee thou art throne to-day tree turban turning up-stage veil VENTIDIUS voice wears weeping wife women
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 201 - Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have Immortal longings in me : now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip : Yare, yare, good Iras ; quick. Methinks I hear Antony call ; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act ; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath : husband, I come : Now to that name my courage prove my title ! I am fire and air ; my other elements I give to baser life.
Seite 197 - My desolation does begin to make A better life : Tis paltry to be Caesar; Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave, A minister of her will ; And it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds ; Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change; Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung, The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.
Seite 196 - It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods ; To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stol'n our jewel.
Seite 200 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Seite 172 - Tis all that heav'n can give. Alex, [aside]. He melts; we conquer. Cleo. No; you shall go; your interest calls you hence; Yes; your dear interest pulls too strong, for these Weak arms to hold you here. - [Takes his hand. Go; leave me, soldier (For you're no more a lover) ; leave me dying: Push me, all pale and panting, from your bosom, And, when your march begins, let one run after, Breathless almost for joy, and cry, 'She's dead.
Seite 201 - I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd.
Seite 180 - Octavia ; for, though I might use the privilege of a poet, to introduce her into Alexandria, yet I had not enough considered, that the compassion she moved to herself and children was destructive to that which I reserved for Antony and Cleopatra...
Seite 170 - tis true, I loved you, And kept you far from an uneasy wife Such Fulvia was. Yes, but he'll say, you left Octavia for me; And, can you blame me to receive that love, Which quitted such desert, for worthless me?
Seite 183 - He was a Roman, till he lost that name, To be a slave in Egypt; but I come To free him thence.
Seite 195 - The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord ! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n : young boys and girls Are level now with men ; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.