Shakespeare's Comedy of Twelfth Night: Or, What You WillAmerican Book Company, 1904 - 245 Seiten |
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accent allusion Antonio bear-baiting brother Brownist Captain Cesario Clarke Clown cockatrice comedy Cotgrave cross-gartered Curio Cymb dear devil doth drink Duke editors ellipsis emendation Enter SIR TOBY Exeunt Exit eyes Fabian Falstaff favour fellow folio folio reading fool Furness galliard gentleman give Halliwell-Phillipps quotes hath heart humour Illyria Johnson knave lady Lear letter lord Lover's Melancholy Macb madam madonna Malone Malvolio Maria marriage Marry master means Middle Temple mistress never niece Olivia Orsino passage peace pia mater pray prithee prose Puritan Re-enter reference Rich SCENE Schmidt Sebastian sense Shakespeare Shakspere Society sing Sir Andrew Sir Toby Belch Sir Toby's Sir Topas smile song Sonn soul speak Steevens quotes sweet syllable tell Temp thee thou art thou hast Twelfth Night verb verse Viola woman word yellow stockings youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 50 - To die, even when they to perfection grow ! Re-enter CURIO and Clown. Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night :— Mark it, Cesario ; it is old and plain : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Seite 222 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Seite 33 - Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy.
Seite 53 - 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.
Seite 6 - If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Seite 34 - Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house ; Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; Halloo your name to the reverberate hills And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out 'Olivia!
Seite 198 - Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up Toward heaven, to pardon blood ; and I have built Two chantries, where the sad and solemn priests Sing still for Richard's soul.
Seite 131 - At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes. And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was ware, and wished she might Deny her nature, and be never more Still to be so displaced. I was all ear, !(« And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of Death.
Seite 222 - Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Seite 50 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it; My part of death no one so true Did share it.