The works of Shakspere, revised from the best authorities: with a memoir and essay on his genius by Barry Cornwall: also annotations and remarks by many writers, illustr. with engr. from designs by K. Meadows, Band 3 |
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Seite 35
... grace the gentry of a land remote , And follow unacquainted colours here ! What , here ? -O nation , that thou couldst re- move ! That Neptune's arms , who clippeth thee about , Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself , And ...
... grace the gentry of a land remote , And follow unacquainted colours here ! What , here ? -O nation , that thou couldst re- move ! That Neptune's arms , who clippeth thee about , Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself , And ...
Seite 51
... grace of God , and this mine arm , To prove him , in defending of myself , A traitor to my God , my king , and me : And , as I truly fight , defend me Heaven ! [ He takes his seat . Trumpet sounds . Enter BOLINGBROKE in armour ...
... grace of God , and this mine arm , To prove him , in defending of myself , A traitor to my God , my king , and me : And , as I truly fight , defend me Heaven ! [ He takes his seat . Trumpet sounds . Enter BOLINGBROKE in armour ...
Seite 62
... grace in person . My noble uncle ! [ Kneels . York . Shew me thy humble heart , and not thy knee , Whose duty is deceivable and false . Boling . My gracious uncle ! — York . Tut , tut ! Grace me no grace , nor uncle me no uncle : I am ...
... grace in person . My noble uncle ! [ Kneels . York . Shew me thy humble heart , and not thy knee , Whose duty is deceivable and false . Boling . My gracious uncle ! — York . Tut , tut ! Grace me no grace , nor uncle me no uncle : I am ...
Seite 63
... grace , Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye . You are my father ; for methinks in you I see old Gaunt alive : O then , my father , Will you permit that I shall stand condemned A wandering vagabond ; my rights and royalties Plucked ...
... grace , Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye . You are my father ; for methinks in you I see old Gaunt alive : O then , my father , Will you permit that I shall stand condemned A wandering vagabond ; my rights and royalties Plucked ...
Seite 71
... grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? — Gardener , for telling me this news of woe , I would the plants thou graft'st may never grow . [ Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies . Gard . Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse , I would my ...
... grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? — Gardener , for telling me this news of woe , I would the plants thou graft'st may never grow . [ Exeunt QUEEN and Ladies . Gard . Poor queen ! so that thy state might be no worse , I would my ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Alarums arms art thou Bardolph bear blood Boling breath brother Buck Buckingham Cade canst Clarence cousin crown dead death dost doth Duch Duke Duke of York Earl Edward Eliz England Exeunt Exit eyes fair farewell father fear foul France friends Gent gentle give Gloster Goths grace grief hand hath head hear heart heaven Holinshed honour house of York Jack Cade KING HENRY lady live look lord Lord Hastings lord of Westmorland madam majesty ne'er never night noble Northumberland peace Pericles Pist Poins poor pray prince Queen Reignier Rich Richard RICHARD PLANTAGENET SCENE shame shew Sir John soldiers Somerset sorrow soul speak Suffolk sweet sword Talbot tears tell thee thine thou art thou hast thou shalt thought thyself tongue traitor uncle unto Warwick weep wilt words York
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 223 - This story shall the good man teach his son ; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered ; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother ; be he ne'er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition : And gentlemen in England now a-bed Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's...
Seite 471 - I have ventured, 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 stre-am, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! I feel my heart new opened. Oh, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes...
Seite 40 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Seite 128 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it ? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it : Honour is a mere scutcheon/ and so ends my catechism.
Seite 5 - Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven,...
Seite 197 - The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king and officers of sorts : Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds...
Seite 197 - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum,...