The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 5D. Appleton & Company, 1872 |
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Page 8
... thee , gentle Apemantus ! Apem . Till I be gentle , stay thou for thy good - morrow ; When thou art Timon's dog , and these knaves honest . Tim . Why dost thou call them knaves ? thou know'st Apem . Are they not Athenians ? [ them not ...
... thee , gentle Apemantus ! Apem . Till I be gentle , stay thou for thy good - morrow ; When thou art Timon's dog , and these knaves honest . Tim . Why dost thou call them knaves ? thou know'st Apem . Are they not Athenians ? [ them not ...
Page 9
... Art not thou a merchant ? Mer . Ay , Apemantus . Apem . Traffic confound thee , if the gods will not ! Mer . If traffic do it , the gods do it . Apem . Traffic's thy god , and thy god confound thee ! Trumpet sounds . Enter a Servant ...
... Art not thou a merchant ? Mer . Ay , Apemantus . Apem . Traffic confound thee , if the gods will not ! Mer . If traffic do it , the gods do it . Apem . Traffic's thy god , and thy god confound thee ! Trumpet sounds . Enter a Servant ...
Page 10
... thou , that still omitt'st it . 2 Lord . Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast . Apem . Ay ; to see meat fill knaves , and wine heat fools . 2 Lord . Fare thee well , fare thee well . Apem . Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice ...
... thou , that still omitt'st it . 2 Lord . Thou art going to Lord Timon's feast . Apem . Ay ; to see meat fill knaves , and wine heat fools . 2 Lord . Fare thee well , fare thee well . Apem . Thou art a fool to bid me farewell twice ...
Page 11
... thee warning on't . Tim . I take no heed of thee ; thou art an Athenian , there- fore welcome : I myself would have no power ; pr'ythee , let my meat make thee silent . Apem . I scorn thy meat ; ' twould choke me , for I should ne'er ...
... thee warning on't . Tim . I take no heed of thee ; thou art an Athenian , there- fore welcome : I myself would have no power ; pr'ythee , let my meat make thee silent . Apem . I scorn thy meat ; ' twould choke me , for I should ne'er ...
Page 16
... Thou art a soldier , therefore seldom rich ; It comes in charity to thee : for all thy living Is ' mongst the dead ; and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitch'd field . Alcib . Ay , defil'd land , my lord . 1 Lord . We are so ...
... Thou art a soldier , therefore seldom rich ; It comes in charity to thee : for all thy living Is ' mongst the dead ; and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitch'd field . Alcib . Ay , defil'd land , my lord . 1 Lord . We are so ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alcib Alcibiades Andronicus Apem Apemantus art thou Aufidius bear blood brother Brutus Cæs Cæsar Caius Casca Cassius Char Charmian Cleo Cleopatra Cloten Cominius Coriolanus CYMBELINE dead death dost doth emperor Enter Eros Exeunt Exit eyes farewell fear Flav fool fortune friends give gods Goths GUIDERIUS hand hath hear heart heaven honour Iach Imogen Julius Cæsar lady Lart Lavinia Lepidus look lord Lucius madam Marc Marcius Mark Antony master Menenius Mess ne'er never noble Octavia peace Pisanio Pompey Posthumus pr'ythee pray queen Re-enter revenge Roman Rome SCENE Senators Serv shalt soldier speak sweet sword Tamora tears tell thee There's thine thou art thou hast Timon Titinius Titus TITUS ANDRONICUS tongue tribunes unto villain Volscian What's word worthy Сут
Popular passages
Page 243 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Page 196 - I am no orator, as Brutus is ; But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend ; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him : For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; I tell you that which you yourselves do know ; Show you Sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths...
Page 194 - tis his will : Let but the commons hear this testament, (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, Unto their issue.
Page 195 - O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel The dint of pity; these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what! weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
Page 218 - This was the noblest Roman of them all : All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; He, only, in a general honest thought And common good to all, made one of them.
Page 193 - Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; And Brutus is an honourable man. You all did see that on the Lupercal I thrice presented him a kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; And, sure, he is an honourable man.
Page 158 - And when you saw his chariot but appear, Have you not made an universal shout, That Tiber trembled underneath her banks To hear the replication of your sounds Made in her concave shores? And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a holiday? And do you now strew flowers in his way That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood? Be gone! Run to your houses, fall upon your knees, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.
Page 195 - 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...
Page 190 - A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy ; Blood and destruction shall be so in use, And dreadful objects so familiar, That mothers shall but smile, when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of War; All pity...
Page 302 - His legs bestrid the ocean : his rear'd arm Crested the world: * his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail' and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder.