Shakespeare's Hamlet, herausg. von K. ElzeMayer, 1857 - 272 страници |
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Страница 47
... thou dost marry , I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry : be thou as chaste as ice , as pure as snow , thou shalt not escape calumny . Get thee to a nunnery ; farewell . Or , if thou wilt needs marry , marry a fool , for wise men ...
... thou dost marry , I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry : be thou as chaste as ice , as pure as snow , thou shalt not escape calumny . Get thee to a nunnery ; farewell . Or , if thou wilt needs marry , marry a fool , for wise men ...
Страница 50
... thou hear ? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice , And could of men distinguish , her election Hath seal'd thee for herself : for thou hast been As one , in suffering all , that suffers nothing ; A man , that fortune's buffets ...
... thou hear ? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice , And could of men distinguish , her election Hath seal'd thee for herself : for thou hast been As one , in suffering all , that suffers nothing ; A man , that fortune's buffets ...
Страница 53
... thou shalt live in this fair world behind , Honour'd , belov'd ; and , haply , one as kind For husband shalt thou P. Queen . O , confound the rest ! Such love must needs be treason in my breast : In second husband let me be accurst ...
... thou shalt live in this fair world behind , Honour'd , belov'd ; and , haply , one as kind For husband shalt thou P. Queen . O , confound the rest ! Such love must needs be treason in my breast : In second husband let me be accurst ...
Страница 54
... thou wilt no second husband wed , But die thy thoughts , when thy first lord is dead . P. Queen . Nor earth to me give food , nor heaven light ! Sport and repose lock from me , day and night ! To desperation turn my trust and hope ! An ...
... thou wilt no second husband wed , But die thy thoughts , when thy first lord is dead . P. Queen . Nor earth to me give food , nor heaven light ! Sport and repose lock from me , day and night ! To desperation turn my trust and hope ! An ...
Страница 55
... Thou mixture rank , of midnight weeds collected , With Hecate's ban thrice blasted , thrice infected , Thy natural magic and dire property , On wholesome life usurp immediately . [ Pours the Poison into the Sleeper's Ears . | 129 Ham ...
... Thou mixture rank , of midnight weeds collected , With Hecate's ban thrice blasted , thrice infected , Thy natural magic and dire property , On wholesome life usurp immediately . [ Pours the Poison into the Sleeper's Ears . | 129 Ham ...
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Amleth beseech blood body Bühnenweisung censure Collier Collier's Cymbeline daughter dead dear death Delius Denmark Dichter doth Douce Drake England englischen ersten Exeunt Exit eyes father fear Fletcher follow friends Ghost giebt give good good night great Guil Guildenstern Halliwell Haml Hamlet hath head hear heart heaven heisst hold Horatio Johnson King know König Laer Laertes Lear leave Lesart lesen QA lich liest life look lord love Macbeth made madness make Malone means Mommsen mother my lord Nares night Ophelia Othello play Polonius Pope pray Pyrrhus QB folgg Queen Rosencrantz sagt Saxo Grammaticus SCENE Schauspieler Schlegel Scott Shakespeare Shakespeare's Hamlet soul speak Steevens Stelle Stück sweet sword take tell thee Theobald und Warburton thing think thou time Titus Andronicus Troilus and Cressida unserer vermuthlich Verse Voltaire Webster Worte your
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Страница 46 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin?
Страница 11 - That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly— heaven and earth Must I remember? why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on, and yet within a month, Let me not think on 't; frailty thy name is woman! A little month or ere those shoes were old With which she follow'd my poor father's body Like Niobe all tears, why she, even she — O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason...
Страница 47 - I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious ; with more offences at my beck, than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
Страница 50 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Страница 102 - And let me speak to the yet unknowing world How these things came about : so shall you hear Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts; Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; Of deaths put on by cunning and forc'd cause; And, in this upshot, purposes mistook Fall'n on the inventors' heads: all this can I Truly deliver.
Страница 58 - 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.
Страница 21 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Страница 101 - Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me ! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, To tell my story.
Страница 42 - Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, Aa deep as to the lungs?
Страница 46 - No traveller returns, — puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.