The Plays of William Shakspeare: Julius Caesar ; Antony and Cleopatra ; Cymbeline ; Titus Andronicus ; Pericles |
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80. oldal
O setting sun ! As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night , So in his red blood
Cassius ' day is set ; The sun of Rome is set ! Our day is gone ; Clouds , dews ,
and dangers corne ; our deeds are done ! Mistrust of my success hath done this
deed .
O setting sun ! As in thy red rays thou dost sink to night , So in his red blood
Cassius ' day is set ; The sun of Rome is set ! Our day is gone ; Clouds , dews ,
and dangers corne ; our deeds are done ! Mistrust of my success hath done this
deed .
84. oldal
Bru . Come , poor remains of friends , rest on this rock . Cli . Statilius show ' d the
torch - light ; but , my lord , He came not back ; he is or ta ' en , or slain . Bru . Sit
thee down , Clitus : Slaying is the word ; It is a deed in fashion . Hark thee , Clitus
.
Bru . Come , poor remains of friends , rest on this rock . Cli . Statilius show ' d the
torch - light ; but , my lord , He came not back ; he is or ta ' en , or slain . Bru . Sit
thee down , Clitus : Slaying is the word ; It is a deed in fashion . Hark thee , Clitus
.
108. oldal
Not in deed , madam ; for I can do nothing But what in deed is honest to be done :
Yet have I fierce affections , and think , What Venus did with Mars . Cleo . O
Charmian , Where think ' st thou he is now ? Stands he , or sits he ? Or does he
walk ...
Not in deed , madam ; for I can do nothing But what in deed is honest to be done :
Yet have I fierce affections , and think , What Venus did with Mars . Cleo . O
Charmian , Where think ' st thou he is now ? Stands he , or sits he ? Or does he
walk ...
385. oldal
Give signs , sweet girl , - for here are none but friends , What Roman lord it was
durst do the deed : Or slunk not Saturnine , as Tarquin erst , That left the camp to
sin in Lucrece ' bed ? Mar . Sit down , sweet niece ; - brother , sit down by me .
Give signs , sweet girl , - for here are none but friends , What Roman lord it was
durst do the deed : Or slunk not Saturnine , as Tarquin erst , That left the camp to
sin in Lucrece ' bed ? Mar . Sit down , sweet niece ; - brother , sit down by me .
415. oldal
What , was she ravish ' d ? tell , who did the deed . Tit . Will ' t please you eat ; will
' t please your highness feed ? Tam . Why hast thou slain thine only daughter
thus ? Tit . Not I ; ' twas Chiron , and Demetrius : They ravish ' d her , and cut away
...
What , was she ravish ' d ? tell , who did the deed . Tit . Will ' t please you eat ; will
' t please your highness feed ? Tam . Why hast thou slain thine only daughter
thus ? Tit . Not I ; ' twas Chiron , and Demetrius : They ravish ' d her , and cut away
...
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Antony arms Attendants bear better blood bring brother Brutus Cæs Cæsar Casca Cassius cause Char Cleo Cleopatra comes daughter dead dear death deed doth emperor Enter Erit Eros Exeunt eyes face fall father fear follow fortune friends give gods gone hand hath head hear heart heaven hold honour I'll Italy keep king lady Lavinia leave live look lord Lucius madam Marcus Mark master mean mistress nature never night noble o'the peace Pericles poor Post pray present prince queen Roman Rome SCENE Sold soldier sons speak stand sweet sword tears tell thank thee thing thou thou art thou hast thought Titus tongue true worthy
Népszerű szakaszok
119. oldal - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water : the poop was beaten gold ; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were silver; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
51. oldal - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar.
64. oldal - All this? ay, more: Fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humour? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish.
70. oldal - There is a tide in the affairs of men Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures.
54. oldal - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; That day he overcame the Nervii : — Look ! In this place ran Cassius...
12. oldal - Would he were fatter ; but I fear him not : Yet if my name were liable to fear, I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; He is a great observer, and he looks Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony ; he hears no music : Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort, As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit That could be mov'd to smile at any thing.
55. oldal - Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops.
186. oldal - Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen these signs; They are black vesper's pageants. Eros. Ay, my lord. Ant. That, which is now a horse, even with a thought, The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct, As water is in water.
63. oldal - I an itching palm ! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Bru.
334. oldal - No withered witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew: The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew; The redbreast oft, at evening hours, Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.