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ABHORSON ACTE CINQUIÈME ACTE PREMIER ACTE QUATRIÈME ACTE SECOND ACTE TROISIÈME Adriana amant amour ANGELO Antipholus Antoine et Cléopâtre Antonio Barnardine Bassanio Bénédick Bertrand Bianca bouffon Bourgeoises de Windsor brother Brutus Caliban Cassius Catherine César Claudio Cloten comique comtesse Conte d'Hiver Coriolan Cymbeline d'Antoine death demande don Pèdre Dromio épouse Falstaff femme fille Florizel frère Gentilshommes de Vérone give good GRATIANO Gremio hath Hélène Henri homme honour Hortensio Imogène ISABELLE jeune Joyeuses Bourgeoises judge Julie know Léonato lord love Lucentio Lucio Maison maître Marchand de Venise Mesure pour Mesure mort Orlando Palais Peines d'Amour perdues père Pétruchio pièce Pisanio Polixène PORCIA Posthumus princesse Prospero Protéo reine Romains Rome Rosalinde SCÈNE CINQUIÈME SCÈNE PREMIÈRE SCÈNE QUATRIÈME SCÈNE SECONDE SCÈNE SIXIÈME SCÈNE TROISIÈME seigneurs SHYLOCK Silvie sir André sir Tobie Syracuse take thou Timon Timon d'Athènes Titus Titus Andronicus Troïlus et Cressida TUBAL Valentin veut vient Volsques
Page 378 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side'; His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound...
Page 124 - Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
Page 43 - Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits and put a tongue In every wound of Caesar that should move The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
Page 378 - And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
Page 37 - I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him? O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason.
Page 43 - I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; I am no orator, as Brutus is ; But as you know me all, a plain blunt man, That love my friend; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on...
Page 133 - Tarry a little; there is something else. This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; The words expressly are "a pound of flesh:" Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh: But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate Unto the state of Venice.
Page 351 - Even here undone ! I was not much afeard ; for once, or twice, I was about to speak, and tell him plainly, The selfsame sun that shines upon his court, Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike.
Page 74 - Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have Immortal longings in me : Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: — Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. — Methinks, I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come...
Page 364 - The current, that with gentle murmur glides, Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage ; But, when his fair course is not hindered, He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage ; And so by many winding nooks he strays With willing sport to the wild ocean.