The Plays of William Shakspeare: Julius Caesar ; Antony and Cleopatra ; Cymbeline ; Titus Andronicus ; PericlesJ. Nichols, 1811 |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 1-5 von 43
Seite 5
... tears Into the channel , till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all . [ Exeunt Citizens . See , whe'rt their basest metal be not mov'd ; They vanish tongue - tied in their guiltiness . Go you down that way towards the ...
... tears Into the channel , till the lowest stream Do kiss the most exalted shores of all . [ Exeunt Citizens . See , whe'rt their basest metal be not mov'd ; They vanish tongue - tied in their guiltiness . Go you down that way towards the ...
Seite 50
... tears , for his love ; joy , for his fortune ; honour , for his valour ; and death , for his ambition . Who is here so base , that would be a bondman ? If any , speak ; for him have I offended . Who is here so rude that would not be a ...
... tears , for his love ; joy , for his fortune ; honour , for his valour ; and death , for his ambition . Who is here so base , that would be a bondman ? If any , speak ; for him have I offended . Who is here so rude that would not be a ...
Seite 54
... tears , prepare to shed them now . You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Cæsar put it on ; ' Twas on a summer's evening , in his tent ; That day he overcame the Nervii : - Look ! in this place , rau Cassius ...
... tears , prepare to shed them now . You all do know this mantle : I remember The first time ever Cæsar put it on ; ' Twas on a summer's evening , in his tent ; That day he overcame the Nervii : - Look ! in this place , rau Cassius ...
Seite 58
... Tear him to pieces , he's a conspirator . Cin . I am Cinna the poet , I am Cinna the poet . 4 Cit . Tear him for his bad verses , tear him for his bad verses . 2 Cit . It is no matter , his name's Cinna ; pluck but his name out of his ...
... Tear him to pieces , he's a conspirator . Cin . I am Cinna the poet , I am Cinna the poet . 4 Cit . Tear him for his bad verses , tear him for his bad verses . 2 Cit . It is no matter , his name's Cinna ; pluck but his name out of his ...
Seite 99
... tears ; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can re- port : this cannot be cunning in her ; if it be , she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove . Ant . ' Would I had never seen her ! Eno . O , sir , you had then left ...
... tears ; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can re- port : this cannot be cunning in her ; if it be , she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove . Ant . ' Would I had never seen her ! Eno . O , sir , you had then left ...
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Aaron Andronicus Bassianus Bawd better blood Boult brother Brutus Cæs Cæsar call'd Casca Cassius Char Charmian Cleo Cleon Cleopatra Cloten Cymbeline daughter dead death deed Dionyza dost doth Egypt emperor Enobarbus Enter Eros Exeunt Exit eyes farewell father fear fortune friends Fulvia give gods Goths Guiderius hand hath hear heart heaven hither honour i'the Iach Imogen Julius Cæsar king lady Lavinia Lepidus look lord Lucius Lysimachus madam Marcus Marina Mark Antony master Mess mistress musick never night noble o'the Octavia Parthia peace Pericles Pisanio Pompey Post Posthumus pr'ythee pray prince queen Re-enter Roman Rome Saturninus SCENE speak sweet sword Tamora tears tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast Titinius Titus Titus Andronicus tongue unto villain weep
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 119 - 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 51 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar.
Seite 64 - All this? ay, more: Fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.
Seite 70 - There is a tide in the affairs of men Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.
Seite 54 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; That day he overcame the Nervii : — Look ! In this place ran Cassius...
Seite 12 - Would he were fatter ; but I fear him not : Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony ; he hears no music : Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort, As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.
Seite 55 - Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 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.
Seite 186 - Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen these signs; They are black vesper's pageants. Eros. Ay, my lord. Ant. That, which is now a horse, even with a thought, The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct, As water is in water.
Seite 63 - I an itching palm ! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Bru.
Seite 334 - No withered witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew: The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew; The redbreast oft, at evening hours, Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.