The Works of Shakespear: Coriolanus. Julius Cesar. Antony and Cleopatra. Cymbeline |
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Стр. 381
Guid . I do note , That grief and patience , rooted in him both , Mingle their spurs
together . Arv . Grow , Patience ! And let the stinking Elder , Grief , untwine His
perishing root , with the encreafing vine ! Bel . It is great morning . Come , away ...
Guid . I do note , That grief and patience , rooted in him both , Mingle their spurs
together . Arv . Grow , Patience ! And let the stinking Elder , Grief , untwine His
perishing root , with the encreafing vine ! Bel . It is great morning . Come , away ...
Стр. 382
Guid . No , nor thy iaylor , rascal , Who is thy grandfather ; he made those clothes
, Which , as it seems , make thee . Clot . Thou precious varlet ! My taylor made
them not . Guid . Hence then , and thank The man that gave them thee . Thou art
...
Guid . No , nor thy iaylor , rascal , Who is thy grandfather ; he made those clothes
, Which , as it seems , make thee . Clot . Thou precious varlet ! My taylor made
them not . Guid . Hence then , and thank The man that gave them thee . Thou art
...
Стр. 385
Guid . Where ? Arv . O'th ' floor : His arms thus leagu'd ; I thought , he flept ; and
put My clouted brogues from off my feet , whose rudeness Answer'd my steps too
loud . Guid . Why , he but sleeps ; If he be gone , he'll make his grave a bed ...
Guid . Where ? Arv . O'th ' floor : His arms thus leagu'd ; I thought , he flept ; and
put My clouted brogues from off my feet , whose rudeness Answer'd my steps too
loud . Guid . Why , he but sleeps ; If he be gone , he'll make his grave a bed ...
Стр. 386
Guid . Cadwall , I cannot fing : I'll weep , and word it with thee ; For notes of
sorrow , out of tune , are worse Than Priests and Fanes that lie . Art . We'll speak
it then . Bel . Great griefs . I fee , med'cine the less . For Cloten Is quite forgot . He
was ...
Guid . Cadwall , I cannot fing : I'll weep , and word it with thee ; For notes of
sorrow , out of tune , are worse Than Priests and Fanes that lie . Art . We'll speak
it then . Bel . Great griefs . I fee , med'cine the less . For Cloten Is quite forgot . He
was ...
Стр. 387
Guid . Fear no more the lightning - flash . Ary . Nor th ' all - dreaded thunder -
stone , Guid . Fear : no sander , censure rash . Arv . Thou hast finish'd joy and
moan . Both . All lovers young , all lovers must Consign to thee , and comie to
dust .
Guid . Fear no more the lightning - flash . Ary . Nor th ' all - dreaded thunder -
stone , Guid . Fear : no sander , censure rash . Arv . Thou hast finish'd joy and
moan . Both . All lovers young , all lovers must Consign to thee , and comie to
dust .
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againſt Antony bear beſt better blood bring Brutus Cæfar Cæſar Caſca cauſe Changes Char Cleo Clot comes Coriolanus dead death doth Enter Eros Exeunt Exit eyes face fear fight firſt follow fortune friends give Gods gone Guid hand hath hear heard heart hence himſelf hold honour I'll Italy keep King Lady leave live look lord Madam Marcius Mark maſter mean Meſ moſt mother muſt myſelf nature never night noble o'th once peace Pleb poor Power pray preſent Queen Roman Rome ſay ſee Senators ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſpeak ſtand ſuch ſword tell thank thee theſe thing thoſe thou thought true voices whoſe worthy
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 127 - Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, Like a Colossus ; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.
Стр. 149 - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
Стр. 169 - It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; For, if you should, O, what would come of it!
Стр. 171 - Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a sudden flood of mutiny. They, that have done this deed, are honourable; What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, That made them do it; they are wise and honourable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.
Стр. 138 - tis a common proof, That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, Whereto the climber-upward turns his face; But when he once attains the upmost round, He then unto the ladder turns his back, Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend.
Стр. 171 - I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Стр. 169 - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Стр. 301 - His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear'd arm Crested the world; his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder: For his bounty, There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas That grew the more by reaping.
Стр. 305 - He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself; but hark thee, Charmian. [Whispers CHARMIAN. Iras. Finish, good lady ; the bright day is done, And we are for the dark.
Стр. 165 - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.