Cervantes-Shakespeare Tercentenary, 1616-1916: Biographical Notes, Selections, and AppreciationsBureau of Supplies, Printing, and Transportation, 1916 - 126 من الصفحات |
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agua andantes años armas aunque autor bellezas Ben Jonson bien Brutus buen buena caballero Caesar Cervantes cielo como corazón cual decir después día dicho diez dijo dió Dios Don Quijote dramatic edad entonces escribió España estaba esto Farewell Folio fué Galatea genio genius gloria gran haber había Hamlet hath hecho historia hombre honor humana immortal ingenio Jonson JULIET King King Lear La Galatea Lazarillo de Tormes libro literatura Lope de Vega luego maestro manera mano Manuel Fernández Juncos más mejor Merchant of Venice muerte mundo Nature noble noche nombre novela nuevo obra ojos palabras piélago plays pobre poco poet poeta primera pues puesto QUOTATIONS razón respondió Rico Rocinante ROMEO Sancho Panza segunda señor Shakespeare siglo sino sólo soneto sonnets suerte swear sweet tenía thee thou tiempo tienen tierra Titus Andronicus veces ventero ventura verdad vida viento William Shakespeare
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 94 - ... this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
الصفحة 95 - No more of that. I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice...
الصفحة 95 - O now, for ever, Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
الصفحة 84 - If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii: Look, in this place ran Cassius...
الصفحة 97 - Sweet Swan of Avon ! what a sight it were To see thee in our waters yet appear, And make those flights upon the banks of Thames, That so did take Eliza, and our James...
الصفحة 91 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in,...
الصفحة 92 - Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which, like the toad.' ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in, stones, and good in every thing.
الصفحة 64 - OTHERS abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask — Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill, Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty, Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place, Spares but the cloudy border of his base To the foil'd searching of mortality; And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, Self-school'd, self-scann'd, self-honour'd, self-secure, Didst tread on earth unguess'd at.
الصفحة 89 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth.
الصفحة 85 - I did consent, And often did beguile her of her tears When I did speak of some distressful stroke That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, She gave me for my pains a world of sighs; She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful. She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man...