Tragedy of Coriolanus

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Harper, 1886 - 279 Seiten
A tragedy by William Shakespeare, believed to have been written between 1605 and 1608. The play is based on the life of the legendary Roman leader Caius Marcius Coriolanus. It is one of the last two tragedies written by Shakespeare, along with Antony and Cleopatra.
 

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Seite 40 - I'll never Be such a gosling to obey instinct, but stand, As if a man were author of himself And knew no other kin.
Seite 119 - You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you; And here remain with your uncertainty! Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, Fan you into despair! Have the power still To banish your defenders; till, at length, Your ignorance, (which finds not, till it feels,) Making...
Seite 41 - Cut me to pieces, Volsces; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. — Boy ! False hound ! If you have writ your annals true, 't is there, That like an eagle in a dove-cote, I Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli : Alone I did it.— Boy ! Auf.
Seite 253 - Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice stole in and out, As if they feared the light. But oh ! she dances such a way, No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
Seite 50 - Who deserves greatness Deserves your hate. And your affections are A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours swims with fins of lead And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust ye? 180 With every minute you do change a mind, And call him noble that was now your hate, Him vile that was your garland.
Seite 156 - Martins' natural wit and great heart did marvellously stir up his courage to do and attempt notable acts. But on the other side, for lack of education, he was so choleric and impatient, that he would yield to no living creature : which made him churlish, uncivil, and altogether unfit for any man's conversation.
Seite 202 - I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please...
Seite 235 - I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises ; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that 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.

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