The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare, Band 19F. C. and J. Rivington; T. Egerton; J. Cuthell; Scatcherd and Letterman; Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown; Cadell and Davies ... [and 28 others in London], J. Deighton and sons, Cambridge: Wilson and son, York: and Stirling and Slade, Fairbairn and Anderson, and D. Brown, Edinburgh., 1821 |
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Seite 15
... thou be- tray me ? BRAK . I beseech your grace to pardon me ; and , withal , Forbear your conference with the noble duke . CLAR . We know thy charge , Brakenbury , and will obey . GLO . We are the queen's abjects , and must obey . 4 ...
... thou be- tray me ? BRAK . I beseech your grace to pardon me ; and , withal , Forbear your conference with the noble duke . CLAR . We know thy charge , Brakenbury , and will obey . GLO . We are the queen's abjects , and must obey . 4 ...
Seite 16
... thou bear from us " That bow propos'd ? ' Again , in the same author's version of Homer's Hymn to Venus : " That thou wilt never let me live to be " An abject , after so divine degree " Taken in fortune- . " STEEVENS . 6 Were it , to ...
... thou bear from us " That bow propos'd ? ' Again , in the same author's version of Homer's Hymn to Venus : " That thou wilt never let me live to be " An abject , after so divine degree " Taken in fortune- . " STEEVENS . 6 Were it , to ...
Seite 21
... thou dreadful minister of hell ! Thou had'st but power over his mortal body , His soul thou can'st not have ; therefore , be gone . GLO . Sweet saint , for charity , be not so curst . ANNE . Foul devil , for God's sake , hence , and ...
... thou dreadful minister of hell ! Thou had'st but power over his mortal body , His soul thou can'st not have ; therefore , be gone . GLO . Sweet saint , for charity , be not so curst . ANNE . Foul devil , for God's sake , hence , and ...
Seite 22
... thou dost swallow up this good king's blood , Which his hell - govern'd arm hath butchered ! GLO . Lady , you know no rules of charity , Which renders good for bad , blessings for curses . ANNE . Villain , thou know'st no law of God nor ...
... thou dost swallow up this good king's blood , Which his hell - govern'd arm hath butchered ! GLO . Lady , you know no rules of charity , Which renders good for bad , blessings for curses . ANNE . Villain , thou know'st no law of God nor ...
Seite 23
... thou canst make No excuse current , but to hang thyself . GLO . By such despair , I should accuse myself . ANNE . And , by despairing , shalt thou stand excus'd ; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself , That didst unworthy slaughter ...
... thou canst make No excuse current , but to hang thyself . GLO . By such despair , I should accuse myself . ANNE . And , by despairing , shalt thou stand excus'd ; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself , That didst unworthy slaughter ...
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ancient ANNE archbishop blood brother BUCK cardinal Catesby CLAR Clarence crown daughter dead death devil doth DUCH Duke of Buckingham Earl Earl of Richmond Earle Richmond editors ELIZ Elizabeth enemies England Enter Exeunt Exit fair farewell father fear folio friends GENT gentleman Gloster grace hand Hanmer hath haue hear heart heaven Holinshed honour horse JOHNSON KATH King Edward King Henry King Henry VI King Richard King Richard III king's lady leaue Lord Chamberlain Lord Hastings Lovel madam MALONE MASON means mother MURD night noble old copy passage play Polydore Virgil pray Prince quarto Queen Rape of Lucrece RICH Richmond royal scene Shakspeare Shakspeare's Shore Sir Thomas Sir Thomas Hanmer sonne soul speak speech STAN Stanley STEEVENS tell thee THEOBALD thou Tower unto WARBURTON wife Wolsey word York
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 10 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Seite 425 - Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man ; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him : The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; And,— when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Seite 55 - And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ; And, in my company, my brother Gloster : Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches ; thence we look'd toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster That had befall'n us.
Seite 448 - After my death I wish no other herald,. 'No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honour from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Seite 430 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell...
Seite 56 - I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ; Who cried aloud, " What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...
Seite 425 - 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 305 - I COME no more to make you laugh : things now, That bear a weighty and a serious brow, Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, We now present.
Seite 441 - An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity...
Seite 426 - 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. Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye; I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes