The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of DenmarkBlackie, 1895 - 224 Seiten |
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Abbott action actor allusion appears blood character Claudius comes common daughter dead dear death Denmark doth doubt drink Elizabethan Elsinore England Enter HAMLET Exeunt Exit eyes father foot Fortinbras friends gentleman Gertrude Ghost give Glossary Guil hand hast hath hear heart heaven Horatio humour Julius Cæsar King king's lady Laer Laertes Latin look Lord Hamlet Macbeth madness Marcellus means Midsummer Night's Dream mother murder nature night noble Ophelia Osric passage phrase play players Polonius pray prince probably Pyrrhus Queen revenge Richard II Romeo and Juliet Rosencrantz and Guildenstern satire scene Second Quarto sense Shakespeare soul speak speech stress sweet sword syllable tell thee thing thou thought tragedy Winter's Tale words youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 35 - Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! It is not, nor it cannot come to good : But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue ! Enter Horatio, Marcelhis, and Bernardo.
Seite 84 - 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.
Seite 59 - 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.
Seite 31 - 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.
Seite 46 - Hold, hold, my heart; And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, But bear me stiffly up! — Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And. thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven.
Seite 83 - No, by the rood, not so: You are the queen, your husband's brother's wife; And — would it were not so ! — you are my mother. Queen. Nay, then, I'll set those to you that can speak. Ham. Come, come, and sit you down; you shall not budge ; You go not till I set you up a glass Where you may see the inmost part of you.
Seite 109 - No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it : as thus : Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth...
Seite 65 - Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i' the throat, As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this? Ha! Swounds, I should take it, for it cannot be But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall To make oppression bitter, or ere this I should have fatted all the region kites With this slave's offal. Bloody, bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!
Seite 67 - To die — to sleep ; To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, there 's the rub ; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.
Seite 68 - The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised 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...