レビュー - レビューを書く
他の版 - すべて表示
answer bear beauty began better Bohemia bring brother Camillo cause child comes court daughter dear death desire Dorastus Duke Egistus Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father Fawnia fear follow fool fortune give hand hast hath haue hear heard heart Hermione hold honour hope I'll Iulina keep king lady leave Leon Leontes live look lord madam Malvolio Maria married matter means mind nature never night noble Olivia Pandosto pass Paul play poor pray present prince queen reason rest SCENE servant Shep shepherd Siluio Sir Andrew Sir Toby speak stand sweet tale tell thee things thou thou art thought true Viola wife young youth
76 ページ - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it.
17 ページ - 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.
58 ページ - Holla your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out, Olivia ! O, you should not rest Between the elements of air and earth, But you should pity me. Oli. You might do much: What is your parentage?
96 ページ - But nature makes that mean : so, over that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes.
97 ページ - You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
96 ページ - re welcome, sir. — Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. — Reverend sirs, For you there 's rosemary and rue ; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long : Grace and remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our shearing ! Pol.
26 ページ - What years, i' faith ? Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; let still the woman take An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are.