The Hamnet Shakspere: According to the First Folio (spelling Modernised).Edmonston, 1880 |
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第 98 頁
... What have you done ? Behold , the Heavens do ope , The Gods look down , and this unnatural Scene They laugh at . Oh my Mother , Mother : Oh ! You have won a happy Victory to Rome . But for your Son , believe it : Oh believe it , Most ...
... What have you done ? Behold , the Heavens do ope , The Gods look down , and this unnatural Scene They laugh at . Oh my Mother , Mother : Oh ! You have won a happy Victory to Rome . But for your Son , believe it : Oh believe it , Most ...
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
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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.