The Stratford Shakspere: Macbeth. Coriolanus. Julius Caesar. Antony & Cleopatra. Cymbeline. Troilus & Cressida

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C:Griffin & Company, 1867
 

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232. oldal - But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar ; I found it in his closet, 'tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament — Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read — And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds...
442. oldal - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
21. oldal - Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
15. oldal - The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!
35. oldal - Duncan is in his grave ; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well ; Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison. Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.
243. oldal - Set in a note-book, learn'd and conn'd by rote, To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my dagger, And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : If that thou beest a Roman, take it forth.
63. oldal - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
14. oldal - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition ; but without The illness should attend it : what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win : thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries " Thus thou must do, if thou have it ; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
233. oldal - Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart; And in his mantle muffling up his face, Even at the base of Pompey's statue (Which all the while ran blood) great Caesar fell.
501. oldal - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.

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