The Works of William Shakespeare: The Plays Ed. from the Folio of MDCXXIII, with Various Readings from All the Editions and All the Commentators, Notes, Introductory Remarks, a Historical Sketch of the Text, an Account of the Rise and Progress of the English Drama, a Memoir of the Poet, and an Essay Upon the Genius, Band 11Little, Brown, 1862 |
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Seite 13
... reason would not haue made Such speede ; Frailtie , thy name is Woman , Why she would hang on him , as if increase Of appetite had growne by what it looked on . O wicked wicked speede , to make such Dexteritie to incestuous sheetes ...
... reason would not haue made Such speede ; Frailtie , thy name is Woman , Why she would hang on him , as if increase Of appetite had growne by what it looked on . O wicked wicked speede , to make such Dexteritie to incestuous sheetes ...
Seite 16
... reason that they are also wanting in the folio itself , which was printed twenty years after- wards . It seems almost certain that these passages were omit- ted in the representation , and struck out of the stage copy from which the ...
... reason that they are also wanting in the folio itself , which was printed twenty years after- wards . It seems almost certain that these passages were omit- ted in the representation , and struck out of the stage copy from which the ...
Seite 33
... reason to the Dane , And lose your voice : what would'st thou beg , Laertes , That shall not be my offer , not thy asking ? The head is not more native to the heart , The hand more instrumental to the mouth , Than is the throne of ...
... reason to the Dane , And lose your voice : what would'st thou beg , Laertes , That shall not be my offer , not thy asking ? The head is not more native to the heart , The hand more instrumental to the mouth , Than is the throne of ...
Seite 35
... reason most absurd ; whose common theme Is death of fathers , and who still hath cried , From the first corse till he that died to - day , " This must be so . " We pray you , throw to earth This unprevailing woe , and think of us As of ...
... reason most absurd ; whose common theme Is death of fathers , and who still hath cried , From the first corse till he that died to - day , " This must be so . " We pray you , throw to earth This unprevailing woe , and think of us As of ...
Seite 36
... reason , Would have mourn'd longer , ) — married with my uncle , My father's brother , but no more like my father , Than I to Hercules : within a month ; Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled ...
... reason , Would have mourn'd longer , ) — married with my uncle , My father's brother , but no more like my father , Than I to Hercules : within a month ; Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled ...
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better blood Brabantio Cassio Cordelia Corn Cyprus daughter dead dear death Desdemona dost doth Duke EDGAR Edmund Emil EMILIA Enter Exeunt Exit eyes farewell father fear folio omits follow Fool Fortinbras foul Gent gentleman Ghost give Gloster GONERIL Guil GUILDENSTERN Hamlet handkerchief hath hear heart Heaven honest Horatio Iago Kent King King Lear knave lady Laer Laertes Lear look lord madam matter Michael Cassio misprint Moor murther night noble old copies Ophelia Othello passage play poison'd POLONIUS poor Pr'ythee pray quarto Queen reading Regan Roderigo ROSENCRANTZ ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN SCENE sense Shakespeare's shew soul speak speech sweet sword tell thee there's thine thing thou art thought to-night tongue tragedy trumpet Venice villain wife words
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 83 - With a bare bodkin ? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; And makes us rather bear those ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of ? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all...
Seite 152 - tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all.
Seite 78 - O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous, that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit, That, from her working, all his visage wann'd ; 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...
Seite 86 - O ! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings...
Seite 87 - And let those, that play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for them : for there be of them, that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too ; though, in the mean time, some necessary question}: of the play be then to be considered : that's villainous ; and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.
Seite 428 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands ; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.
Seite 109 - Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery, That aptly is put on.
Seite 49 - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine...
Seite 34 - Seems, madam ! nay, it is ; I know not 'seems.' 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms...
Seite 270 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these? O! I have ta'en Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.