The Comedies, Histories, Tragedies, and Poems of William Shakspere, 2권Charles Knight, 1851 |
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Angelo Anne Appears Ariel Autolycus BEAT Beatrice Benedick better Bohemia brother CAIUS Caliban Camillo CLAUD Claudio Clown COMEDIES.-VOL daughter death DOGB dost doth DUKE Enter ESCAL Exeunt Exit eyes Falstaff father folio follow fool FORD friar gentleman give grace hand hang hath hear heart heaven Herne the hunter Hero hither honour HOST HUGH EVANS husband Illyria ISAB John king lady LEON Leonato look lord LUCIO maid Malvolio marry master constable master doctor mistress never night original Orlando passage PEDRO Pompey pray prince prithee Prospero PROV Provost quarto queen Re-enter reading Rosalind SCENE Shakspere Shakspere's SHAL SHEP signior Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK sir Toby SLEN song speak Steevens swear sweet tell thee there's thou art to-morrow true wife Windsor woman word
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580 페이지 - Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on ; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
284 페이지 - O fellow, come, the song we had last night: Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain: The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
554 페이지 - All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.
424 페이지 - Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down ; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own ; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.
285 페이지 - My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 0 prepare it ; My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strewn; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, 0, where Sad true lover never flnd my grave, To weep there.