Golden Leaves from the British and American Dramatic PoetsBruce and Huntington, 1865 - Всего страниц: 562 |
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... YOUNG . The Revenge .......... WILLIAM MASON . Caractacus ... Elfrida ... RICHARD GLOVER . Boadicea ...... DAVID MALLET . Alfred the Great ..... HENRY BROoke . 254 262 263 271 280 280 281 282 Gustavus Vasa ; or , the Deliverer of his ...
... YOUNG . The Revenge .......... WILLIAM MASON . Caractacus ... Elfrida ... RICHARD GLOVER . Boadicea ...... DAVID MALLET . Alfred the Great ..... HENRY BROoke . 254 262 263 271 280 280 281 282 Gustavus Vasa ; or , the Deliverer of his ...
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... go , And this good fellow here , and I , Will range this hideous orchard up and down , Like two she - lions , ' reavèd of their young . Go in a doors , I say . [ Exeunt . Christopher Marlowe . THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND.
... go , And this good fellow here , and I , Will range this hideous orchard up and down , Like two she - lions , ' reavèd of their young . Go in a doors , I say . [ Exeunt . Christopher Marlowe . THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND.
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... young , how rarely featured , But she would spell him backward : if fair - faced , She'd swear , the gentleman should be her sister ; If black , why , Nature , drawing of an antic , Made a foul blot ; if tall , a lance ill - headed ; If ...
... young , how rarely featured , But she would spell him backward : if fair - faced , She'd swear , the gentleman should be her sister ; If black , why , Nature , drawing of an antic , Made a foul blot ; if tall , a lance ill - headed ; If ...
Стр. 48
... Young Arthur is my son , and he is lost : I am not mad ; -I would to Heaven , I were ! For then , ' tis like I should forget myself : O , if I could , what grief should I forget ! — Preach some philosophy to make me mad , And thou shalt ...
... Young Arthur is my son , and he is lost : I am not mad ; -I would to Heaven , I were ! For then , ' tis like I should forget myself : O , if I could , what grief should I forget ! — Preach some philosophy to make me mad , And thou shalt ...
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... young ; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece ; So minutes , hours , days , weeks , months , and years , Passed over to the end they were created , Would bring white hairs unto a quiet ...
... young ; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece ; So minutes , hours , days , weeks , months , and years , Passed over to the end they were created , Would bring white hairs unto a quiet ...
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Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Golden Leaves from the British and American Dramatic Poets John William Stanhope Hows Полный просмотр - 1867 |
Golden Leaves: From the British and American Dramatic Poets (Classic Reprint) John W. S. Hows Недоступно для просмотра - 2015 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Æneids AMBLA arms art thou bear behold Bian BIANCA Blan Blanche blessed blood breath brother Brutus Cæsar Cato Cham child Collatia crown curse dare daughter dead dear death dost thou doth dream Duke Duke of Milan earth Enter Evadne Exeunt Exit eyes farewell fate father fear fortune Gideon Giulio give gods grief hand hath hear heart Heaven Hecate honour hour King lady Lictors live look lord Lysimachus madam Mantua Marq marriage Marsio mother murder ne'er NEARCHUS never night noble o'er OROONOKO peace Pescara Philotas pity prison Pythias Ravenna revenge Seton Sfor Sforza sleep smile sorrow soul speak spirit sweet sword TAMERLANE tears tell thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought Twas twill Vent voice weep wouldst wretch youth
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 25 - It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul, — Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — It is the cause.
Стр. 35 - I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation ; nor the musician's which is fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which is proud ; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious ; nor the lawyer's, which is politic ; nor the lady's, which is nice ; nor the lover's, which is all these...
Стр. 30 - O, reason not the need : our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous : Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's : thou art a lady ; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.
Стр. 19 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false: at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
Стр. 35 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Стр. 46 - Hear him but reason in divinity, And, all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the king were made a prelate...
Стр. 29 - Hear, Nature, hear ! dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if thou didst intend To make this creature fruitful ! Into her womb convey sterility ! Dry up in her the organs of increase, And from her derogate body never spring A babe to honour her ! If she must teem...
Стр. 27 - 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 undiscover'd 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...
Стр. 47 - Now entertain conjecture of a time, When creeping murmur, and the poring dark, Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
Стр. 18 - tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night.