The essays of EliaE. Moxon, 1840 |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 58 találatból.
18. oldal
... replied , " he had no friends . " These pleasant , and some mournful passages with the first sight of the sea , co - operating with youth , and a sense of holidays , and out- of - door adventure , to me that had been pent up in populous ...
... replied , " he had no friends . " These pleasant , and some mournful passages with the first sight of the sea , co - operating with youth , and a sense of holidays , and out- of - door adventure , to me that had been pent up in populous ...
1. oldal
... replied Miranda . Can " By what ? " asked Prospero ; " by any other house or person ? Tell me what you can re- member , my child . " Miranda said , " It seems to me like the recollection of a dream . But had I not once four or five ...
... replied Miranda . Can " By what ? " asked Prospero ; " by any other house or person ? Tell me what you can re- member , my child . " Miranda said , " It seems to me like the recollection of a dream . But had I not once four or five ...
3. oldal
... replied , " My affections are most humble . I have no wish to see a goodlier man . " " Miranda , " said Prospero , " tell me what you are looking at yonder . " " O father , " said Miranda , in a strange sur- prise , " surely that is a ...
... replied , " My affections are most humble . I have no wish to see a goodlier man . " " Miranda , " said Prospero , " tell me what you are looking at yonder . " " O father , " said Miranda , in a strange sur- prise , " surely that is a ...
6. oldal
... replied , " What , jealous Oberon , is it you ? Fairies , skip hence ; I have forsworn his company . " " Tarry , rash fairy , " said Oberon ; am not I ; thy lord ? Why does Titania cross her Oberon ? Give me your little changeling boy ...
... replied , " What , jealous Oberon , is it you ? Fairies , skip hence ; I have forsworn his company . " " Tarry , rash fairy , " said Oberon ; am not I ; thy lord ? Why does Titania cross her Oberon ? Give me your little changeling boy ...
10. oldal
... replied Emilia , “ I will acquaint the queen with your noble offer ; she was wishing to - day that she had any friend who would venture to present the child to the king . " " And tell her , " said Paulina , " that I will speak boldly to ...
... replied Emilia , “ I will acquaint the queen with your noble offer ; she was wishing to - day that she had any friend who would venture to present the child to the king . " " And tell her , " said Paulina , " that I will speak boldly to ...
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Angelo Anthonio Antipholis Bassanio beauty Benedick Bertram better brother brought called Cassio child Claudio confess count Paris cousin Cymbeline daughter dead dear death Desdemona dreams Dromio duke Ephesus eyes face fancy father fear feel Ganimed gentle gentleman give grace Hamlet hath hear heard heart Helena Hermia Hertfordshire honour husband Iago Illyria Imogen Isabel Katherine kind king knew lady Leonato lived look lord lord Capulet Lysander Lysimachus Macbeth maid manner Marina marriage married master Michael Cassio mind nature never night noble Olivia once Orlando Othello passion Pericles person Petruchio play pleasant poor Portia present prince Prospero Protheus Quakers queen remember replied Romeo Rosalind seemed seen Shylock sight sleep sort speak spirit strange sweet tell thee thing thou thought Timon tion told true truth Tybalt Valentine Viola whist wife wish words young youth
Népszerű szakaszok
55. oldal - Here at the fountain's sliding foot, Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, Casting the body's vest aside, My soul into the boughs does glide; There, like a bird, it sits and sings, Then whets and combs its silver wings, And, till prepared for longer flight, Waves in its plumes the various light.
55. oldal - What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons, as I pass, Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
74. oldal - Not a flower, not a flower sweet, • On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O ! where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there.
73. oldal - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat, like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
69. oldal - O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
74. oldal - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it; My part of death no one so true Did share it.
50. oldal - In the same hour came forth fingers of a man's hand, and wrote over against the candlestick upon the plaster of the wall of the king's palace: and the king saw the part of the hand that wrote.
95. oldal - twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful; She wished she had not heard it, yet she wished That heaven had made her such a man; she thanked me, And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake; She loved me for the dangers I had passed, And I loved her that she did pity them.
75. oldal - While he was thinking what he should say to his father, and wringing his hands over the smoking remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, an odor assailed his nostrils, unlike any scent which he had before experienced.
42. oldal - Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be ? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn, whom that love doth possess? Do they call virtue there — ungratefulness!