Hamlet, prince of Denmark, ed. by C.E. Moberly |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 22 találatból.
viii. oldal
... sense of the word ; the constant dwelling on the irremediable , on action and duty undone and now become impossible to be done ; which is , as the poet says , like the sighs of the spendthrift for his squandered estate . If this ...
... sense of the word ; the constant dwelling on the irremediable , on action and duty undone and now become impossible to be done ; which is , as the poet says , like the sighs of the spendthrift for his squandered estate . If this ...
3. oldal
... sense ; as in Coriolanus , v . 23 , " plough Rome and harrow Italy . ' So the descent of Christ was called in legends the " harrowing ( harrying ) of hell . " Some editions read " it horrors me . " 46 Usurp'st . Zeugma : the Ghost ...
... sense ; as in Coriolanus , v . 23 , " plough Rome and harrow Italy . ' So the descent of Christ was called in legends the " harrowing ( harrying ) of hell . " Some editions read " it horrors me . " 46 Usurp'st . Zeugma : the Ghost ...
5. oldal
... sense of ' suspect- ing ' and ' suspected . ' See Coriolanus , 71 , note on ' deserved . ' 85 This side . The whole eastern hemisphere . 87 By law and heraldry . Elze quotes Belleforest , Historical Fragments , " Ce roi magnanime ayant ...
... sense of ' suspect- ing ' and ' suspected . ' See Coriolanus , 71 , note on ' deserved . ' 85 This side . The whole eastern hemisphere . 87 By law and heraldry . Elze quotes Belleforest , Historical Fragments , " Ce roi magnanime ayant ...
13. oldal
... sense , Why should we in our peevish opposition Take it to heart ? Fie ! ' tis a fault to heaven , A fault against the dead , a fault to nature , 74 It is common . Cp . In Memoriam , vi . : " That loss is common would not make Mine own ...
... sense , Why should we in our peevish opposition Take it to heart ? Fie ! ' tis a fault to heaven , A fault against the dead , a fault to nature , 74 It is common . Cp . In Memoriam , vi . : " That loss is common would not make Mine own ...
15. oldal
... sense of condescend ' ( dignari ) , as in Golding's Ovid— " Yet could he not beteem The shape of any bird than eagle for to seem . " 150 Discourse of reason . The inferring power of reason . Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears ...
... sense of condescend ' ( dignari ) , as in Golding's Ovid— " Yet could he not beteem The shape of any bird than eagle for to seem . " 150 Discourse of reason . The inferring power of reason . Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears ...
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
aught awhile blood body brain breath brother chough Coriolanus daughter dead dear death Denmark devil doth dreams drink e'en earth editions England Enter HAMLET Enter KING Enter POLONIUS Exeunt ROSENCRANTZ eyes fair Farewell father fear felo de se follow Fortinbras friends gentleman Gertrude GHOST give grace grave grief GUIL hand hast hath hear heart heaven Hecuba hold honour Horatio Jephthah Julius Cæsar lady LAER Laertes live look Lord Hamlet Macbeth madness majesty marry matter means mind mother murder nature never night noble Norway o'er Ophelia OSRIC passion play players poison'd POLONIUS pray Pyrrhus QUEEN revenge ROSENCRANTZ and GUILDENSTERN RUGBY SCHOOL SCENE sense Shakspere Shakspere's Sings sleep soul speak speech spirit sweet sword tell thee There's thine thing thought tongue twere villain words youth ΙΟ
Népszerű szakaszok
98. oldal - Of thinking too precisely on the event, A thought which, quarter'd, hath but one part wisdom And ever three parts coward, I do not know Why yet I live to say, This thing's to do ; Sith I have cause and will and strength and means To do't.
78. oldal - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me ! You would play upon me ; you would seem to know my stops ; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery ; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass : and there is much music, excellent voice in this little organ ; yet cannot you make it speak. Why ! do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe ? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
30. oldal - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
49. oldal - O God ! I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
44. oldal - tis, 'tis true : a foolish figure ; But farewell it, for I will use no art. Mad let us grant him then : and now remains, That we find out the cause of this effect ; Or, rather say, the cause of this defect ; For this effect, defective, comes by cause : Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.
29. oldal - Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night; And, for the day, confined to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purged away.
22. oldal - Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
131. oldal - tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all.
113. oldal - Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples, That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them : There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.
64. oldal - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin...