大家的评论 - 撰写书评
Achilles Æmil Æmilia Æne Æneas Agamemnon Ajax art thou blood Brabantio Caffio Capulet Clot Cloten Clown consess Cymbeline Cyprus dead dear death Desdemona Diomede dost doth emend Enter Ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewel father fool foul Friar Lawrence gentleman give Guiderius Hamlet hath hear heart heav'n Hector honour i'th Iacb Iago Imogen is't Juliet King Lady Laer Laertes lago lise look Lord Madam marry matter Menelaus mistress murther night noble Nurse old edit Othello Pandarus Patroclus Polonius Posthumus Pr'ythee pray Priam Prince Queen Rodorigo Romeo S C E N E SCENE sear sellow shew speak sweet sword tell thee Ther there's thing thou art to-night Troi Troilus Tybalt Ulys villain Warb what's wise word
第518页 - But there, where I have garner'd up my heart, Where either I must live or bear no life, The fountain from the which my current runs, Or else dries up...
第327页 - Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief, That can denote me truly: These, indeed, seem, For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that within, which passeth show; These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.
第64页 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past : which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
第383页 - 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...
第494页 - O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others
第268页 - These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die ! like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.
第252页 - Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night — See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul.
第390页 - You cannot call it love; for at your age The heyday in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment Would step from this to this?