Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen, 32. kötet;34. kötet

Első borító
Westermann, 1863
Vols. for 1858- include "Sitzungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für das Studium der neueren Sprachen."

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362. oldal - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad; Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds ; Which pillage they with merry march bring...
321. oldal - Les poussent au penchant où leur cœur est enclin, Et leur osent du crime aplanir le chemin! Détestables flatteurs, présent le plus funeste Que puisse faire aux rois la colère céleste!
360. oldal - That he which is was wish'd until he were; And the ebb'd man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love, Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body, Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion.
312. oldal - On ne voit point deux fois le rivage des morts, Seigneur. Puisque Thésée a vu les sombres bords, En vain vous espérez qu'un Dieu vous le renvoie, Et l'avare Achéron ne lâche point sa proie.* Que dis-je?
362. oldal - Tis strange, my Theseus, that these lovers speak of? The. More strange than true. I never may believe These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains, Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, Are of imagination all compact.
337. oldal - I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die : 10 I think there be six Richmonds in the field ; Five have I slain to-day instead of him. A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! [Exeunt.
230. oldal - He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe ; Pattern in himself, to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go ; More nor less to others paying, Than by self-offences weighing.
349. oldal - I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk...
364. oldal - The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of this world, No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony, Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave, Who with a body fill'd and vacant mind Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful bread...
347. oldal - O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.

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