The Hamnet Shakspere: According to the First Folio (spelling Modernised).Edmonston, 1880 |
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第 1 到 5 筆結果,共 19 筆
第 vii 頁
... Gates . Opinions as to the manner in which this Tragedy is printed in the First Folio are various , and some of them " wide as the poles asunder . " Charles Knight says : " The Text is divided into acts and scenes , according to the ...
... Gates . Opinions as to the manner in which this Tragedy is printed in the First Folio are various , and some of them " wide as the poles asunder . " Charles Knight says : " The Text is divided into acts and scenes , according to the ...
第 xiii 頁
... Gate , when he was a Crack , not thus high , " and it might well be used by the Justice in such a mood , and talking of such an one , for Falstaff was a " Crack " to the end . But " a low word " like this , in the mouth of the dove ...
... Gate , when he was a Crack , not thus high , " and it might well be used by the Justice in such a mood , and talking of such an one , for Falstaff was a " Crack " to the end . But " a low word " like this , in the mouth of the dove ...
第 xv 頁
... Gates , Which yet seem shut , we have but pinn'd with Rushes , They'll open of themselves . The Capital Letter to " Gates " was the ignis fatuus here . See here these movers that do prize their hours ( Page 16. ) At a crack'd Drachme ...
... Gates , Which yet seem shut , we have but pinn'd with Rushes , They'll open of themselves . The Capital Letter to " Gates " was the ignis fatuus here . See here these movers that do prize their hours ( Page 16. ) At a crack'd Drachme ...
第 lvi 頁
... Gates So , now the Gates are ope · ' Tis for the Followers Fortune , widens them Not for the Flyers And when it Bows , stand'st up . Thou mad'st thine Enemies shake See here these Movers These base Slaves There is the Man of my Soul's ...
... Gates So , now the Gates are ope · ' Tis for the Followers Fortune , widens them Not for the Flyers And when it Bows , stand'st up . Thou mad'st thine Enemies shake See here these Movers These base Slaves There is the Man of my Soul's ...
第 lxi 頁
... made your Mother 65 " " 65 99 66 Their Mercy Envi'd against the People 66 66 99 To pluck away their Power In the name a ' th ' People In peril of Precipitation 66 9 66 " " " " 66 To enter our Rome Gates Page 66 • As Enemy ( lxi )
... made your Mother 65 " " 65 99 66 Their Mercy Envi'd against the People 66 66 99 To pluck away their Power In the name a ' th ' People In peril of Precipitation 66 9 66 " " " " 66 To enter our Rome Gates Page 66 • As Enemy ( lxi )
常見字詞
a'th Antium Auffidius banish'd bear Belly beseech blood Brut Brutus Caius Martius Capitol City Cominius Consul copy Corio death do't Drum Ears Edile edition Edward Rushton Emphasis-Capitals Enemy Enter Coriolanus Enter Menenius Epaminondas Exeunt Eyes Fourth Folio Friends Gates give Gods Greenock Library ha's hate hath hear heart Honour i'th John Taylor Joseph Taylor Julius Cæsar Ladies Lives Lord Madam marked Mene Menen Mother motto mutiners Noble North's Plutarch passages Patricians Peace pray prythee Richard Burbage Roman Plays Rome Senators Shakspere Shakspere's shew shew'd Sicin Sicinius Soldier speak stand Sword Tarpeian Rock tell thee thine thing Third Folio Thomas Taylor thou hast Titus Lartius to't Tongue Tribunes Tullus unto Valeria Virg Virgilia Voices Volces Volcians Volum Volumnia What's Wife word World worthy wounds written
熱門章節
第 xxx 頁 - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him : but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
第 7 頁 - Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate: and your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust ye ? With every minute you do change a mind; And call him noble, that was now your hate, Him vile, that was your garland.
第 56 頁 - His nature is too noble for the world : He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his mouth : What his breast forges that his tongue must vent; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death.
第 68 頁 - You common cry of curs ! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, — I banish you ; And here remain with your uncertainty!
第 106 頁 - If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That, like an eagle in a dovecote, I Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli : Alone I did it. — Boy ! Auf.