The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copy Left by the Late George Steevens, Esq. ; with Glossarial Notes, Том 7J. Johnson, 1803 |
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Стр. 49
... Duch . No , boy . Daugh . Why do you weep so oft ? and beat your breast ; And cry - O Clarence , my unhappy son ! Son . Why do you look on us , and shake your head , And call us orphans , wretches , cast - aways , If that our noble ...
... Duch . No , boy . Daugh . Why do you weep so oft ? and beat your breast ; And cry - O Clarence , my unhappy son ! Son . Why do you look on us , and shake your head , And call us orphans , wretches , cast - aways , If that our noble ...
Стр. 50
... Duch . Ah , that deceit should steal such gentle shapes , And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice ! He is my son , ay , and therein my shame , Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit . Son . Think you , my uncle did dissemble , gran ...
... Duch . Ah , that deceit should steal such gentle shapes , And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice ! He is my son , ay , and therein my shame , Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit . Son . Think you , my uncle did dissemble , gran ...
Стр. 51
... Duch . Alas , for both , both mine , Edward and Clarence ! Q. Eliz . What stay had I , but Edward ? and he's gone . Chil . What stay had we , but Clarence ? and he's gone . Duch . What stays had I , but they ? E 2 Scene II . 51 KING ...
... Duch . Alas , for both , both mine , Edward and Clarence ! Q. Eliz . What stay had I , but Edward ? and he's gone . Chil . What stay had we , but Clarence ? and he's gone . Duch . What stays had I , but they ? E 2 Scene II . 51 KING ...
Стр. 52
... Duch . What stays had I , but they ? and they are gone . Q. Eliz . Was never widow , had so dear a loss . Chil . Were never orphans , had so dear a loss . Duch . Was never mother had so dear a loss . Alas ! I am the mother of these ...
... Duch . What stays had I , but they ? and they are gone . Q. Eliz . Was never widow , had so dear a loss . Chil . Were never orphans , had so dear a loss . Duch . Was never mother had so dear a loss . Alas ! I am the mother of these ...
Стр. 53
... Duch . God bless thee ; and put meekness in thy breast , Love , charity , obedience , and true duty ! Glo . Amen ; and make me die a good old man ! - That is the butt - end of a mother's blessing ; [ Aside . I marvel , that her grace ...
... Duch . God bless thee ; and put meekness in thy breast , Love , charity , obedience , and true duty ! Glo . Amen ; and make me die a good old man ! - That is the butt - end of a mother's blessing ; [ Aside . I marvel , that her grace ...
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Achilles Æneas Agam Agamemnon Ajax Anne Antenor arms bear blood brother Buck Buckingham Calchas cardinal Cate Catesby Cham Clar Clarence cousin Cres Cressid Crom curse death Deiphobus Diomed DIOMEDES Dorset doth Duch duke duke of Norfolk Edward Eliz Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell father fear fool friends Gent gentle give Gloster grace Grecian Greeks Hast hath hear heart heaven Hect Hector Helen Helenus holy honour i'the Kath King RICHARD king's lady live look lord Lord Chamberlain lord Hastings LOVELL madam Menelaus Murd Nest Nestor night noble Norfolk o'the Pandarus Patr Patroclus peace Pr'ythee pray Priam prince queen Rich Richmond royal SCENE Sir THOMAS LOVELL sorrow soul speak Stan Stanley sweet sword tell tent thee Ther there's Thersites thou art to-morrow Troilus Trojan Troy trumpet Ulyss uncle unto
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Стр. 4 - 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...
Стр. 136 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree, Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree ; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, — Guilty ! guilty ! I shall despair.
Стр. 231 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Стр. 231 - Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Стр. 240 - He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not ; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer And though he were unsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely...
Стр. 345 - That no man is the lord of any thing, (Though in and of him there be much consisting,) Till he communicate his parts to others : Nor doth he of himself know them for aught Till he behold them form'd in the applause Where they are extended ; which, like an arch, reverberates The voice again ; or like a gate of steel Fronting the sun, receives and renders back His figure and his heat.
Стр. 369 - Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
Стр. 231 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : And thus far hear me, Cromwell...
Стр. 33 - I have pass'da miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, ' Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ; So full of dismal terror was the time.
Стр. 34 - Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud, ' What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...