Macbeth. King John. King Richard II.-v. 2. King Henry IV. King Henry V.-v. 3. King Henry VI.-v. 4. King Richard III. King Henry VIII. A Midsummer-night's dream. Titus Andronicus.-v. 5. Comedy of errors. Taming of the shrew. Love's labour's lost.-v. 6. Two gentlemen of Verona. Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet, prince of Denmark.-v. 7. Merchant of Venice. All's well that ends well. Much ado about nothing.-v. 8. As you like it. Merry wives of Windsor. Troilus and Cressida.-v. 9. Measure for measure. Winter's tale. King Lear.-v. 10. Cymbeline. Julius Caesar. Antony and Cleopatra.-v. 11. Pericles, prince of Tyre. Timon of Athens. Coriolanus.-v. 12. Othello. The tempest. Twelfth night
Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1807
ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.
arms art thou Arth Arthur Attendants Aumerle Bagot banish'd Banquo Bast Bastard Bishop of Carlisle Blanch blood Boling Bolingbroke bosom breath Bushy Castle Const cousin crown Dauphin dead death deed Doct doth Duch duke duke of Hereford earth England Enter King Exeunt Exit eyes fair farewell father Faulconbridge fear Fleance France friends Gaunt gentle give grace grief hand hath head hear heart heaven Hereford hither honour Hubert James Gurney King John King Richard Lady Lady Macbeth land liege live look lord Macb Macd Macduff Madam majesty mother murder night noble Northumberland Pand Pandulph pardon peace Percy prince Queen Rich Rosse royal Salisbury SCENE shame sleep Soldiers sorrow soul speak stand sweet sword tears thane thee thine thou art thou hast thou shalt thought tongue traitor uncle Witch words York
الصفحة 92 - Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man ! And be these juggling fiends no more belieVd, That palter with us in a double sense ; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope l*"0 — I'll not fight with thee. Macd. Then yield thee, coward, And live to be the show and gaze o...
الصفحة 46 - Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstacy. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison. Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further!
الصفحة 219 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
الصفحة 30 - How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
الصفحة 87 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle...
الصفحة 194 - This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself.
الصفحة 26 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee: I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat -oppressed brain?
الصفحة 254 - All murder'd; — for within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps death his court, and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ; Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks...
الصفحة 22 - Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off: And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, hors'd Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind.