Works ...Amer. Book Company, 1909 |
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Seite 22
... thou here While sense can keep it on . And , sweetest , fairest , As I my poor self did exchange for you To your so infinite loss , so in our trifles I still win of you . For my sake wear this ; 120 It is a manacle of love , I ' ll 22 ...
... thou here While sense can keep it on . And , sweetest , fairest , As I my poor self did exchange for you To your so infinite loss , so in our trifles I still win of you . For my sake wear this ; 120 It is a manacle of love , I ' ll 22 ...
Seite 23
... Thou basest thing , avoid ! hence , from my sight ! If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness , thou diest . Away ! Thou ' rt poison to my blood . Posthumus . And bless the good remainders of the court ! I am ...
... Thou basest thing , avoid ! hence , from my sight ! If after this command thou fraught the court With thy unworthiness , thou diest . Away ! Thou ' rt poison to my blood . Posthumus . And bless the good remainders of the court ! I am ...
Seite 24
... Thou took'st a beggar , wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness . Imogen . A lustre to it . No ; I rather added Sir , Cymbeline . O thou vile one ! Imogen . It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus ; You bred him as my ...
... Thou took'st a beggar , wouldst have made my throne A seat for baseness . Imogen . A lustre to it . No ; I rather added Sir , Cymbeline . O thou vile one ! Imogen . It is your fault that I have lov'd Posthumus ; You bred him as my ...
Seite 27
... PISANIO Imogen . I would thou grew'st unto the shores o ' the haven , And question'dst every sail ; if he should write And I not have it , ' t were a paper lost As offer'd mercy is . What was the last That Scene III ] 27 Cymbeline.
... PISANIO Imogen . I would thou grew'st unto the shores o ' the haven , And question'dst every sail ; if he should write And I not have it , ' t were a paper lost As offer'd mercy is . What was the last That Scene III ] 27 Cymbeline.
Seite 28
... Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow , or less , ere left To after - eye him . Pisanio . Madam , so I did . 10 Imogen . I would have broke mine eye - strings , crack'd them , but To look upon him till the diminution Of space ...
... Thou shouldst have made him As little as a crow , or less , ere left To after - eye him . Pisanio . Madam , so I did . 10 Imogen . I would have broke mine eye - strings , crack'd them , but To look upon him till the diminution Of space ...
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accent Ambrogiolo AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY Arviragus Augustus Cæsar Belarius blood Boccaccio Britain Briton brother Cadwal Cæsar call'd Cassibelan cave character Clarke Cloten Cornelius court Cymbeline Cymbeline's dead death doth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes false father fear Fidele flowers folios fool Gaoler garment Gentleman give gods Guiderius hast hath hear heart heaven Holinshed honour husband Iachimo Imogen instance Johnson Julius Cæsar Jupiter king lady Lear Leonatus letter lord Lucius Macb madam Malone master means Milford-Haven mistress mother nature Nennius noble noun passage Philario Pisanio play poison Polydore Posthumus pray prince prithee Queen remarks Rich Roman Rome SCENE Schmidt sense Shakespeare shalt Sicilius Sonn speak Steevens sweet sword syllable Temp thee There's thing thou art treach true verb Verplanck verse villain virtue Whole Winter's Tale woman word worthy prince youth Zinevra
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 55 - Phoebus gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chalic'd flowers that lies ; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes : With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet arise ; Arise, arise ! Clo.
Seite 111 - O thou goddess, Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st In these two princely boys! They are as gentle As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough, Their royal blood enchafd, as the rud'st wind, That by the top doth take the mountain pine, And make him stoop to the vale.
Seite 116 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak. The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Seite 216 - Full little knowest thou that hast not tride, What hell it is, in suing long to bide : To loose good dayes, that might be better spent...
Seite 68 - And that most venerable man which I Did call my father, was I know not where When I was stamped ; some coiner with his tools Made me a counterfeit : yet my mother seem'd The Dian of that time ; so doth my wife The nonpareil of this.
Seite 13 - This play has many just sentiments, some natural dialogues, and some pleasing scenes, but they are obtained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, the absurdity of the conduct, the confusion of the names and manners of different times, and the impossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon unresisting imbecility, upon faults too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation.
Seite 218 - Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell...
Seite 187 - If we should fail? Lady M. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep — Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey Soundly invite him — his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only...
Seite 83 - tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword ; whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile ; * whose breath Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states,3 Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave This viperous slander enters.
Seite 278 - With fairest flowers, Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, I'll sweeten thy sad grave : thou shalt not lack The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose ; nor The azured hare-bell, like thy veins ; no, nor The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, Out-sweeten'd not thy breath...