Coriolanus. Timon of AthensHarper & brothers, 1884 |
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1st folio Alcibiades Antium Apemantus Athens Aufidius banishment bear blood Brutus Caius Marcius Capell Caphis Citizen Clarke Coll Cominius conjecture consul Coriolanus Corioli Cotgrave Cymb death Edile edition enemies Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fear flatter Flavius Fleay folios follow fool fortune friends gates give gods Hanmer hate hath hear heart honour Johnson Julius Cæsar ladies Lear lord Lucius Lucullus Macb Malone means Menenius Messenger misanthropy mother nature never noble passage patrician peace Phrynia play Plutarch poet Pope pray pride proud revenge Rich Roman Rome SCENE Schmidt Senator Servant Servingman Shakespeare Shakspere Sicinius slaves soldier speak spirit stand Steevens quotes sword tell thee Theo thine thing thou art Timon Timon of Athens TITUS LARTIUS tribunes trumpets Tullus unto Valeria Varro verb Virgilia voices Volsces Volscian Volumnia Warb word worthy
Populära avsnitt
Sida 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.
Sida 83 - 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 116 - Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft : Seek not my name : a plague consume you wicked caitiffs left ! Here lie I, Timon ; who, alive, all living men did hate : Pass by, and curse thy fill : but pass, and stay not here thy gait.
Sida 83 - Roots, you clear heavens ! 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...
Sida 51 - 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 ? With every minute you do change a mind; And call him noble, that was now your hate, Him vile, that was your garland.
Sida 149 - What is that curtsy worth ? or those doves' eyes, Which can make gods forsworn ? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth than others. My mother bows ; As if Olympus to a molehill should In supplication nod : and my young boy Hath an aspect of intercession, which Great nature cries
Sida 41 - Why, noble lords. Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune, Which was your shame, by this unholy braggart, 'Fore your own eyes and ears? All Con. Let him die for 't. All People. Tear him to pieces ; do it presently.
Sida 255 - 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.
Sida 10 - 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 117 - As reek o' th' 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...