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第121页 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
第121页 - ... called in question, we think, by those who did not understand it. It is more interesting than according to rules: amiable, though not faultless. The ethical delineations of "that noble and liberal casuist" (as Shakespeare has been well called) do not exhibit the drab-coloured quakerism of morality.
第175页 - Meantime the matter and diction seemed to me characterized not so much by poetic thoughts, as by thoughts translated into the language of poetry.
第172页 - In our own English compositions (at least for the last three years of our school education) he showed no mercy to phrase, metaphor, or image, unsupported by a sound sense, or where the same sense might have been conveyed with equal force and dignity in plainer words.
第121页 - Ophelia is quite natural in his circumstances. It is that of assumed severity only. It is the effect of disappointed hope, of bitter regrets, of affection suspended, not obliterated, by the distractions of the scene around him ! Amidst the natural and preternatural horrors of his situation, he might be excused in delicacy from carrying on a regular courtship. When ' his father's spirit was in arms,' it was not a time for the son to make love in. He could neither marry Ophelia, nor wound her mind...
第119页 - Shakspeare's plays that we think of the oftenest, because it abounds most in striking reflections on human life, and because the distresses of Hamlet are transferred, by the turn of his mind, to the general account of humanity.
第120页 - ... by the strangeness of his situation. He seems incapable of deliberate action, and is only hurried into extremities on the spur of the occasion, when he has no time to reflect, as in the scene where he kills Polonius, and again, where he alters the letters which Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are taking with them to England, purporting his death.
第174页 - ... there was a long and blessed interval, during which my natural faculties were allowed to expand, and my original tendencies to develope themselves — my fancy, and the love of nature, and the sense of beauty in forms and sounds.
第119页 - Hamlet is a name ; his speeches and sayings but the idle coinage of the poet's brain. What, then, are they not real? They are as real as our own thoughts ; their reality is in the reader's mind. It is we who are Hamlet. This play has a prophetic truth, which is above that of history. Whoever has become thoughtful and melancholy through his own mishaps or those of others ; whoever has borne about with him the clouded brow of reflection, and thought himself