G. E. Lessing's gesammelte Werke, Bände 6-7

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Seite 175 - That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity...
Seite 175 - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling Nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
Seite 175 - My mind as generous, and my shape as true, As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? Who in the lusty stealth of nature take More composition and fierce quality Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well then, Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land: Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund As to the legitimate. Fine word, "legitimate"!
Seite 175 - For that I am some twelve or fourteen moonshines Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base? When my dimensions are as well compact, My mind as generous, and my shape as true, As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Seite 254 - II n'est point de ciment que le Temps ne dissoude. Si vos marbres si durs ont senti son pouvoir, Dois-je trouver mauvais qu'un méchant pourpoint noir, Qui m'a duré deux ans, soit percé par le coude?
Seite 142 - Thy mother ; fonder of that tender name, " Than all the proud additions pow'r can give.
Seite 175 - Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace...
Seite 263 - S'il reste un rejeton de la race d'Alcide, Si ce fils tant pleuré dans Messène est produit, De quinze ans de travaux j'ai perdu tout le fruit. Crois-moi, ces préjugés de sang et de naissance Revivront dans les cœurs, y prendront sa défense.
Seite 144 - Our England's dearest hope, undoubted offspring Of York and Lancaster's united line ; By whose bright zeal, by whose victorious faith, Guarded and fenc'd around our pure religion, That lamp of truth which shines upon our altars, Shall lift its golden head, and flourish long ; Beneath whose awful rule, and righteous sceptre, The plenteous years shall roll in long succession ; Law shall prevail, and ancient right take place, Fair liberty shall lift her cheerful head, Fearless of tyranny and proud oppression...

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