The Life of Timon of Athens: According to the First Folio (spelling Modernised)Edmonston, 1879 - 72 sidor |
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Sida xxii
... Steward still The Beggar Native Honor And fay , this mans a Flatterer every grize of Fortune With thy most operant Poison Ha you Gods ! why this ? what this , you Gods !. A Beast as thou art For shewing me again the eyes of Man Here ...
... Steward still The Beggar Native Honor And fay , this mans a Flatterer every grize of Fortune With thy most operant Poison Ha you Gods ! why this ? what this , you Gods !. A Beast as thou art For shewing me again the eyes of Man Here ...
Sida xxviii
... Steward , with many Bills With drunken spilth of Wine ; when every Room Thou disease of a Friend , and not himself Owes their Estates unto him • Like empty purses pickt ; And his poor self That the bleak Air , thy boisterous Chamberlain ...
... Steward , with many Bills With drunken spilth of Wine ; when every Room Thou disease of a Friend , and not himself Owes their Estates unto him • Like empty purses pickt ; And his poor self That the bleak Air , thy boisterous Chamberlain ...
Sida 10
... Steward : no meed but he repays Seven - fold above itself : No gift to him , But breeds the giver a return : exceeding All use of quittance . 1 The Noblest mind he carries , That ever govern'd man . 2 Long may he live in Fortunes ...
... Steward : no meed but he repays Seven - fold above itself : No gift to him , But breeds the giver a return : exceeding All use of quittance . 1 The Noblest mind he carries , That ever govern'd man . 2 Long may he live in Fortunes ...
Sida 19
... Steward , with many bills in his hand . Stew . No care , no stop , so senseless of expense , That he will neither know how to maintain it , Nor cease his flow of Riot . Takes no accompf How things go from him , nor resume no care Of ...
... Steward , with many bills in his hand . Stew . No care , no stop , so senseless of expense , That he will neither know how to maintain it , Nor cease his flow of Riot . Takes no accompf How things go from him , nor resume no care Of ...
Sida 20
... Steward puts me off my Lord , and I Am sent expressly to your Lordship . Tim . Give me breath : I do beseech you good my Lords keep on , I'll wait upon you instantly . Come hither : pray you How goes the world , that I am thus ...
... Steward puts me off my Lord , and I Am sent expressly to your Lordship . Tim . Give me breath : I do beseech you good my Lords keep on , I'll wait upon you instantly . Come hither : pray you How goes the world , that I am thus ...
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The Life of Timon of Athens - According to the First Folio Allan Park Paton Ingen förhandsgranskning - 2010 |
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Alcibiades Apemantus Aper Athenian Beast Beggar Bounty Caphis Capitals confound thee curse Cymbeline dost thou doth e'en Emphasis-Capitals Enter Timon Exeunt Exit eyes Feast Fellows Flam Flaminius Flatterer Fool Fortune Fourth Folio Friends Gentleman give Gods Gold grave Hamnet Edition hate hath hear heart Heavens honest Honour Horse Jewel Julius Cæsar King Henry King Henry VI Knaves labour live Lord Timon Lordship Luci Lucullus Mankind Master meat mend Methinks Money ne'er Noble Timon Oldm Pain Paton Plague Plutus Poet poor pray Printers prithee Senators Servant Servilius Shakspere Shakspere's shew should'st Slave speak Stew tell th'art There's Thief Thieves thine Third Folio thou art thou hast thou wert thou wilt thyself Timon of Athens Titus Andronicus Tragedy Tragedy of Macbeth Troilus and Cressida Usurers valiant Varro Villains Whore would'st
Populära avsnitt
Sida 45 - Thus much of this, will make Black, white ; foul, fair ; wrong, right ; Base, noble ; old, young ; coward, valiant. Ha, you gods ! why this ? What this, you gods ? Why this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides ; Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads : This yellow slave Will knit and break religions ; bless the accurs'd ; Make the hoar leprosy ador'd ; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench...
Sida 58 - The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun: The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrement: each thing's a thief; The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheck'd theft.
Sida 68 - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover ; thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
Sida 2 - The fire i' the flint Shows not, till it be struck ; our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies Each bound it chafes.* What have you there ? PAIN.