PoetryVicesimus Knox S. Walker, 1825 |
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Seite 103
... leave me . Vent . Sir , I love you , And therefore will not leave you . ! I cannot help her softness . [ man ! he weeps Ant . By Heaven he weeps , poor good old The big round drops course one another down The furrows of his cheeks ...
... leave me . Vent . Sir , I love you , And therefore will not leave you . ! I cannot help her softness . [ man ! he weeps Ant . By Heaven he weeps , poor good old The big round drops course one another down The furrows of his cheeks ...
Seite 105
... leave this- Ant . Pr'ythee do not curse her , And I will leave her ; though Heaven knows Beyond life , conquest , empire , all but honor ; But I will leave her . Vent . That ' s my royal master . And shall we fight ? [ love I Ant . I ...
... leave this- Ant . Pr'ythee do not curse her , And I will leave her ; though Heaven knows Beyond life , conquest , empire , all but honor ; But I will leave her . Vent . That ' s my royal master . And shall we fight ? [ love I Ant . I ...
Seite 127
... leave thee - leave thee here , El . I would not - cannot think it ; but this Per . A moment , Elinor , consult your heart . Have you not something seen , or fancied , in me , That seemed ill coupled with this outward Arguing a mind ...
... leave thee - leave thee here , El . I would not - cannot think it ; but this Per . A moment , Elinor , consult your heart . Have you not something seen , or fancied , in me , That seemed ill coupled with this outward Arguing a mind ...
Inhalt
VOL | 1 |
LOVES LABOUR LOST | 7 |
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE | 13 |
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Ajax arms art thou bear beauty behold blood breast breath bright Brutus Cæsar call'd Cassius cheek Comus Cymbeline dead dear death Decius didst dost doth dread dream earth ev'ry eyes fair father fear fire flow'rs gentle give gods gold grace grief Hadad hand hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hell honor hour Iago king Lady light live look lord lov'd lyre Macb Macbeth Macd Marcian mind moon Muse nature ne'er never night noble nymph o'er Othello Pandarus peace pity poor pow'r pride prince Rome round seem'd SHAKSPEARE sight sleep smile soft Sonnet sorrow soul speak spide spirit stamp'd sweet sword tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thought thyself tongue twas Tybalt unto Vent vex'd virtue voice weep wind wretched youth