Jahrbuch der Deutschen Shakespeare-Gesellschaft, Volumen19

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G. Reimer, 1884
 

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Página 297 - Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension, And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Página 71 - ... kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And...
Página 212 - O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day ; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away ! Re-enter PANTHINO.
Página 269 - But if the gods themselves did see her then, When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his sword her husband's limbs, The instant burst of clamour that she made, Unless things mortal move them not at all, Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven, And passion in the gods.
Página 195 - The endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, And make us heirs of all eternity. Therefore, brave conquerors! — for so you are, That war against your own affections, And the huge army of the world's desires...
Página 219 - Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love: Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent; for beauty is a witch, Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
Página 215 - And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
Página 215 - Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace...
Página 200 - It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
Página 68 - Denn Lieb' ist voller Eigensinn und Unart. . Muthwillig wie ein Kind, abspringend, eitel, Erzeugt durch's Aug' und deshalb gleich dem Auge, Voll flücht'ger Bilder, Formen, Phantasien, Und wechselt bunt, wie in des Auges Spiegel Der Dinge Wechsel schnell vorüber rollt.

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