Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Achilles Ajax Antony Apem Apemantus art thou bear blood brother Brutus Cśsar Cassio Cleo Coriolanus Cres crown daughter dead dear death Diom dost doth duke duke of York Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair farewell father fear fool fortune friends Gent give Gloster gods grace hand hath hear heart heaven Henry hither honour Iago Julius Cśsar Kent king lady Lear live look lord Lucius madam Marcius Mark Antony means ne'er never night noble Othello Pandarus Patroclus peace Pleb poor pr'ythee pray prince Queen Rome Romeo SCENE shalt shew soldiers Somerset soul speak stand Suffolk sweet sword tears tell thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast Timon tongue Troi Troilus Tybalt unto villain Warwick weep What's wilt word York
Pagina 1034 - How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
Pagina 1022 - Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd ; Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing...
Pagina 1028 - 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. 'Sblood, 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.
Pagina 1019 - I have of late — but wherefore I know not — lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Pagina 1024 - ... twere, the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.
Pagina 767 - Julius bleed for justice' sake? What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What, shall one of us, That struck the foremost man of all this world, But for supporting robbers; shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes? And sell the mighty space of our large...
Pagina 750 - And do you now put on your best attire ? And do you now cull out a holiday ? And do you now strew flowers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood ? Be gone ! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Pagina 1030 - Look here, upon this picture, and on this, The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Pagina 870 - Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy: the bounded waters Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores And make a sop of all this solid globe: Strength should be lord of imbecility, And the rude son should strike his father dead: Force should be right; or rather, right and wrong, Between whose endless jar justice resides, Should lose their names, and so should justice too. Then every thing includes itself in power, Power...
Pagina 1007 - And then it started, like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. I have heard The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake the god of day; and at his warning. Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, The extravagant and erring spirit hies To his confine; and of the truth herein This present object made probation.