The Beauties of Shakspeare Regularly Selected from Each Play. With a General Index, Digesting Them Under Proper HeadsT. Bedlington, 1827 - Всего страниц: 345 |
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Стр. 11
... nature she's immediate heir ; And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn , Which challenges itself as honour's born , And is not like the sire : Honours best thrive , When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoer : the ...
... nature she's immediate heir ; And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn , Which challenges itself as honour's born , And is not like the sire : Honours best thrive , When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoer : the ...
Стр. 12
... nature owes , Were mine at once : No , come thou home , Rousillon , Whence honour but of danger wins a scar , As oft it loses all ; I will be gone : My being here it is that holds thee hence : Shall I stay here to do't ? no , no ...
... nature owes , Were mine at once : No , come thou home , Rousillon , Whence honour but of danger wins a scar , As oft it loses all ; I will be gone : My being here it is that holds thee hence : Shall I stay here to do't ? no , no ...
Стр. 17
... nature owes , Were mine at once : No , come thou home , Rousillon , Whence honour but of danger wins a scar , As oft it loses all ; I will be gone : My being here it is that holds thee hence : Shall I stay here to do't ? no , no ...
... nature owes , Were mine at once : No , come thou home , Rousillon , Whence honour but of danger wins a scar , As oft it loses all ; I will be gone : My being here it is that holds thee hence : Shall I stay here to do't ? no , no ...
Стр. 31
... nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence , But , like a thrifty goddess , she determines Herself ... natures do pursue , ( Like rats that ravint down their proper bane , ) A thirsty evil ; and when we drink , we die ...
... nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence , But , like a thrifty goddess , she determines Herself ... natures do pursue , ( Like rats that ravint down their proper bane , ) A thirsty evil ; and when we drink , we die ...
Стр. 35
... nature , Once stir my temper ; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite . LOVE IN A GRAVE SEVERE GOVERNOR . When I would pray and think , I think and pray To several subjects : heaven hath my empty words ; Whilst my invention hearing not ...
... nature , Once stir my temper ; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite . LOVE IN A GRAVE SEVERE GOVERNOR . When I would pray and think , I think and pray To several subjects : heaven hath my empty words ; Whilst my invention hearing not ...
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Achilles Agamemnon Ajax Antony Aposiopesis art thou banishment bear beauty blood bosom breath brows Brutus Cassius Cesar cheek Coriolanus crown curse Cymbeline dear death deed described Desdemona didst dost thou doth dream earth eyes fair fair ladies father fear fool fortune friends gentle Ghost give grief hand hang hath head hear heart heaven honour hour Iago iron tongue king kiss Lady live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd maid melancholy midnight bell mother murder nature ne'er never night noble o'er Pandarus passion Patroclus pity poor princes proud Queen revenge Richard III shame sleep soliloquy sorrow soul speak speech spirit stamp'd sweet Sycorax tears thee thine thing thou art thou hast thoughts tongue true twice-told tale unto vex'd villain virtue weep wife wind woman words young youth
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Стр. 61 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Стр. 103 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Стр. 130 - He's here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
Стр. 70 - Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Стр. 17 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit ; Tu-who...
Стр. 127 - I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too, Who loses, and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; And take...
Стр. 130 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly : If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We'd jump the life to come.
Стр. 132 - s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.
Стр. 60 - twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory...
Стр. 102 - Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will, My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow?