The beauties of Shakespeare, selected from his plays and poems |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 1-5 von 5
Seite 38
As the wretch , whose fever - weaken'd joints Like ftrengthless lringes buckle
under life , Impatient of his fit , breaks like a fire Out of his keeper's arms ; e'en fo
my limbs , Weaken'd with grief , being now enrag'd with grief , Are Are thrice ...
As the wretch , whose fever - weaken'd joints Like ftrengthless lringes buckle
under life , Impatient of his fit , breaks like a fire Out of his keeper's arms ; e'en fo
my limbs , Weaken'd with grief , being now enrag'd with grief , Are Are thrice ...
Seite 69
And bid him speak of patience ; Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine
, And let it answer every strain for strain , As thus for thus , and such a grief for
such , In every lineament , branch , shape , and form ; If such a one will smile ,
and ...
And bid him speak of patience ; Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine
, And let it answer every strain for strain , As thus for thus , and such a grief for
such , In every lineament , branch , shape , and form ; If such a one will smile ,
and ...
Seite 70
Nor the dejected ' haviour of the visage , Together with all forms , modes , shews
of grief , That can denote me truly : these , indced , seem ; For they are actions
that a man might play : But I have that within which pasieth show ; These but the ...
Nor the dejected ' haviour of the visage , Together with all forms , modes , shews
of grief , That can denote me truly : these , indced , seem ; For they are actions
that a man might play : But I have that within which pasieth show ; These but the ...
Seite 152
Oh , if I could , what grief should I forget ! Preach some Philosophy to make me
mad , And thou shalt be canoniz'd , Cardinal : For , being not mad , but fenfible of
grief , My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliver'd of these woes
...
Oh , if I could , what grief should I forget ! Preach some Philosophy to make me
mad , And thou shalt be canoniz'd , Cardinal : For , being not mad , but fenfible of
grief , My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliver'd of these woes
...
Seite 363
... gone , Is the next way to draw new mischief on . What cannot be preserv'd
when Fortune takes , Patience her injury a mockery makes . The robb'd , that
smiles , steals something from the thief ; He robs himself that spends a bootless
grief ...
... gone , Is the next way to draw new mischief on . What cannot be preserv'd
when Fortune takes , Patience her injury a mockery makes . The robb'd , that
smiles , steals something from the thief ; He robs himself that spends a bootless
grief ...
Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
againſt bear better blood body break breath Brutus Cæfar comes dead dear death deed doth dream Duke ears earth Enter eyes face fair fall father fear fire firſt fool fortune foul friends give grace grief Hamlet hand hath head hear heard heart heaven Henry hold honour hour I'll itſelf keep King Lady lago Lear leave light live look Lord Macb matter means mind moſt muſt myſelf nature never night noble once peace poor Prince Richard ſay ſee ſeem ſhall ſhe ſhould ſleep ſome ſoul ſpeak ſpirit ſtand ſtrange ſuch ſweet tears tell thee theſe thine thing thoſe thou art thought thouſand tongue true uſe virtue whoſe wife wind young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 282 - I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Seite 282 - And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts : I am no orator, as Brutus is ; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend...
Seite 149 - I hate him for he is a Christian ; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
Seite 137 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly; if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success : that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come.
Seite 199 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.
Seite 82 - The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Seite 54 - Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba ! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?
Seite 67 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Seite 89 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
Seite 281 - O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.