Guy's new speaker, selections of poetry and prose from the best writers in the English languageJoseph Guy 1852 |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 68 találatból.
16. oldal
... 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 upon us the mystery of things , As if we were ...
... 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 upon us the mystery of things , As if we were ...
20. oldal
... Tell me , thou fellow , is not France forsworn ? Envenom him with words ; or get thee gone , And leave those woes alone , which I alone Am bound to under - bear . Sal . Pardon me , madam , I may not go without you to the kings . Const ...
... Tell me , thou fellow , is not France forsworn ? Envenom him with words ; or get thee gone , And leave those woes alone , which I alone Am bound to under - bear . Sal . Pardon me , madam , I may not go without you to the kings . Const ...
28. oldal
... tell me , if you speak in jest , or no . Hot . Come , wilt thou see me ride ? And when I am o ' horse - back , I will swear I love thee infinitely . But hark you , Kate ; I must not have you henceforth question me Whither I go , nor ...
... tell me , if you speak in jest , or no . Hot . Come , wilt thou see me ride ? And when I am o ' horse - back , I will swear I love thee infinitely . But hark you , Kate ; I must not have you henceforth question me Whither I go , nor ...
35. oldal
... their armed heels at their dead masters , Killing them twice . O give us leave , great king , To view the field in safety , and dispose Of their dead bodies . K. Hen . I tell thee truly , herald , SELECTIONS FROM SHAKSPERE . 35.
... their armed heels at their dead masters , Killing them twice . O give us leave , great king , To view the field in safety , and dispose Of their dead bodies . K. Hen . I tell thee truly , herald , SELECTIONS FROM SHAKSPERE . 35.
36. oldal
Joseph Guy. K. Hen . I tell thee truly , herald , I know not if the day be ours or no ; For yet a many of your horsemen peer , And gallop o'er the field . Mont . The day is yours . K. Hen . Praised be God , and not our strength , for it ...
Joseph Guy. K. Hen . I tell thee truly , herald , I know not if the day be ours or no ; For yet a many of your horsemen peer , And gallop o'er the field . Mont . The day is yours . K. Hen . Praised be God , and not our strength , for it ...
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Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Guy's New Speaker, Selections of Poetry and Prose from the Best Writers in ... Joseph Guy Nincs elérhető előnézet - 2016 |
Guy's New Speaker, Selections of Poetry and Prose from the Best Writers in ... Nincs elérhető előnézet - 2020 |
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Bassora beauty behold blood breath bright brittle glory Cæsar charms clouds Cold fearful courser dead dear death delight dost doth drachmas dread earth elocution eyes face fair FALSTAFF fame father fear fire flowers fool gentle give glory grace grave grief hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Hecat's Hecuba honour hope kind king labour light live look lord Lucilius Lycidas lyre Lysippus mind Muse nature ne'er never night noble numbers nymph o'er once OTHELLO pain passions peace Philippi pleased pleasure poor praise Priam pride prince Proteus Pyrrhus Rasselas rich round scene shade smile soft song sorrow soul sound speak spirit stream sweet tears tell tempest thee thine thing thou hast thought tongue trembling virtue voice Warren Hastings weep wild wind wings wonder younker youth
Népszerű szakaszok
60. oldal - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold.
356. oldal - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering, with white lips - 'The foe! they come! they come!
101. oldal - Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks; Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
298. oldal - To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Beside the bed where parting life was laid. And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
iv. oldal - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
6. oldal - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
297. oldal - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
102. oldal - Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves; Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.