Every Day with Shakespeare

Cover
F.W. Haigh, 1912 - 118 Seiten
 

Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben

Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.

Ausgewählte Seiten

Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen

Beliebte Passagen

Seite 32 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing : To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung : as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Seite 23 - 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.
Seite 18 - I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, — which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet...
Seite 5 - God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains ! that we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause, transform ourselves into beasts ! lago.
Seite 3 - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: How would you be, If he, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.
Seite 75 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
Seite 55 - Subtle as Sphinx ; as sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Seite 29 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Seite 20 - 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.
Seite 10 - Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep ; Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast ;— Lady M.

Bibliografische Informationen