Tales from Shakspeare: Designed for the Use of Young PersonsBaldwin and Cradock, 1831 - 376 страници |
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Страница 25
... manner ; for she thought ( as well she might ) that Lysander was making a jest of her . " Oh ! " said she , " why was I born to be mocked and scorned by every one ? Is it not enough , is it not enough , young man , that I can never get ...
... manner ; for she thought ( as well she might ) that Lysander was making a jest of her . " Oh ! " said she , " why was I born to be mocked and scorned by every one ? Is it not enough , is it not enough , young man , that I can never get ...
Страница 27
... manners , you would not use me thus . " While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry words to each other , Demetrius and Lysan- der left them , to fight together in the wood for the love of Helena . When they found the gentlemen ...
... manners , you would not use me thus . " While Helena and Hermia were speaking these angry words to each other , Demetrius and Lysan- der left them , to fight together in the wood for the love of Helena . When they found the gentlemen ...
Страница 41
... manner in which Perdita conversed with his son did not a little surprise Polixenes : he said to Camillo , " This is the prettiest low- born lass I ever saw ; nothing she does or says but looks like something greater than herself , too ...
... manner in which Perdita conversed with his son did not a little surprise Polixenes : he said to Camillo , " This is the prettiest low- born lass I ever saw ; nothing she does or says but looks like something greater than herself , too ...
Страница 44
... manner of its exposure , the jewels and other tokens of its high birth ; from all which it was impossible for him not to conclude , that Perdita and the king's lost daughter were the same . Florizel and Perdita , Camillo and the ...
... manner of its exposure , the jewels and other tokens of its high birth ; from all which it was impossible for him not to conclude , that Perdita and the king's lost daughter were the same . Florizel and Perdita , Camillo and the ...
Страница 68
... manner did the patient duke draw a useful moral from every thing that he saw ; and by the help of this moralizing turn , in that life of his , remote from public haunts , he could find tongues in trees , books in the running brooks ...
... manner did the patient duke draw a useful moral from every thing that he saw ; and by the help of this moralizing turn , in that life of his , remote from public haunts , he could find tongues in trees , books in the running brooks ...
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Adriana Ægeon Angelo Anthonio Antipholis Ariel Bassanio Beatrice Bellarius Benedick Bertram brother called Capulet Cassio Celia Cesario child Claudio count Paris countess court Cymbeline daughter dead dear death Demetrius Desdemona Dionysia Dromio duke Ephesus fair father fear friar Ganimed gave gentle gentleman give grief Hamlet hear heard heart Helena Hermia Hermione Hero honour husband Iago Imogen Isabel Julia Juliet Katherine king knew lady Lear Leonato Leontes lived look lord lord Capulet lover Lysander Lysimachus Macbeth maid Marina marriage married master Michael Cassio mind Miranda mistress mother Mountague murder never night noble Oberon Olivia Orlando Orsino Othello Paulina Perdita Pericles Petruchio Polixenes poor Portia Posthumus prince prison Prospero Protheus queen replied returned ring Romeo Rosalind saying seemed servant Shylock Silvia sister sleep speak spirit strange sweet tell Thaisa thing thought Timon told Tybalt Valentine Viola wicked wife wished words young
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Страница 7 - Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell.
Страница 109 - I hate him for he is a Christian, But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
Страница 169 - Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep,' the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave* of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast,— Lady M, What do you mean ? Macb. Still it cried' Sleep no more !' to all the house ' Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.
Страница 242 - O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Страница 358 - A terrible child-bed hast thou had, my dear, No light, no fire : the unfriendly elements Forgot thee utterly ; nor have I time To give thee hallow'd to thy grave, but straight Must cast thee, scarcely coffin'd, in the ooze; Where, for a monument upon thy bones, And aye-remaining || lamps, the belching whale, And humming water must o'erwhelm thy corpse, Lying with simple shells...
Страница 257 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat, like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Страница 113 - O sweet Portia, here are a few of the unpleasantest words that ever blotted paper : gentle lady, when I first imparted my love to you, I freely told you all the wealth I had ran in my veins ; but I should have told you that I had less...
Страница 118 - Tarry a little ; there is something else. This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood, — The words expressly are, a pound of flesh...
Страница 177 - With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; I bear a charmed life , which must not yield To one of woman born.
Страница 79 - Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time ; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have...