William Shakespeare. - Paris (usw.), Albert Langen 1896. 1006 S.

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A. Langen, 1896 - 1006 pages
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Page 326 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it; My part of death no one so true Did share it.
Page 248 - What things have we seen Done at the ' Mermaid ? ' Heard words that have been So nimble, and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
Page 955 - I have bedimm'd The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds, And twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up The pine and cedar; graves at my command Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let 'em forth By my so potent art.
Page 413 - I may not evermore acknowledge thee, Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame; Nor thou with public kindness honour me, Unless thou take that honour from thy name.
Page 411 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone ; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone...
Page 260 - Ehre ist nichts als ein gemalter Schild beim Leichenzuge: und so endigt mein Katechismus.
Page 232 - Wenn ihr uns stecht, bluten wir nicht? Wenn ihr uns kitzelt, lachen wir nicht? Wenn ihr uns vergiftet, sterben wir nicht?
Page 169 - Der Königsthron hier, dies gekrönte Eiland, Dies Land der Majestät, der Sitz des Mars, Dies zweite Eden, halbe Paradies, Dies Bollwerk, das Natur für sich erbaut, Der Ansteckung und Hand des Kriegs zu trotzen, Dies Volk des Segens, diese kleine Welt, Dies Kleinod, in die Silbersee gefaßt, Die ihr den Dienst von einer Mauer leistet, Von einem Graben, der das Haus verteidigt, Vor weniger beglückter Länder Neid; Der segensvolle Fleck, dies Reich, dies England, Die Amm...
Page 36 - I have no brother, I am like no brother, And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me! I am myself alone.— Clarence, beware!
Page 215 - This is one special remembrance, from your father's motion. It seemeth by him that our countryman Mr. Shakespeare is willing to disburse some money upon some odd yard land or other at Shottery, or near about us. He thinketh it a very fit pattern to move him to deal in the matter of our tithes. By the instructions you can give him thereof, and by the friends he can make therefore, we think it a fair mark for him to shoot at, and not impossible to hit. It obtained would advance him indeed, and would...

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