William Shakespeare: A Study in Elizabethan Literature

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C. Scribner's Sons, 1894 - 439 頁
 

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第 312 頁 - Set you down this ; And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk Beat a Venetian and traduced the state, I took by the throat the circumcised dog, And smote him, thus.
第 312 頁 - Kent. Vex not his ghost. O, let him pass! He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.
第 267 頁 - tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them ? To die: to sleep...
第 233 頁 - O, none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
第 283 頁 - Demand me nothing ; what you know, you know : From this time forth I never will speak word.
第 346 頁 - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
第 51 頁 - THE love I dedicate to your Lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance.
第 235 頁 - Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after-loss. Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, Come in the rearward of a conquered woe; Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, To linger out a purposed overthrow.
第 276 頁 - twas wondrous pitiful : She wish'd she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd That Heaven had made her such a man : she thank'd me ; And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her.
第 375 頁 - These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this unsubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind.

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