طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
13th century Abbey of Fontevraud Angiers arms art thou Arth Attendants Aust Austria BIGOT Blanch blood breath brother brow cardinal Charles Kean Chatillon church citizens colours Const Costumes Crosses crown curse Dauphin dead didst dost doth dress Duke of Austria Earl effigy ELINOR England English Enter FAULCONBRIDGE Essex Exeunt Exit eyes fair father Faulc Faule fear France French Herald gates Geffrey's gentle give gold gown grandam grief hand hath hear heart heaven holy honour Hubert James Gurney King John King Philip kneel Knight Knights Templars land legate Lewis liege lions lord Lord Salisbury Madam majesty Melun Montfaucon mother noble Pandulph peace Pembroke pope prince Richard Richard Coeur-de-Lion royal Salisbury SCENE Shakspeare shame Sir Robert soldier soul speak spirit surcoat Swinstead sword thee thine thou shalt tongue Trumpets Vide warrant Worcester Cathedral young Arthur
الصفحة 52 - How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds Makes ill deeds done...
الصفحة 59 - Be great in act, as you have been in thought ; Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust, Govern the motion of a kingly eye. Be stirring as the time ; be fire with fire ; Threaten the threatener, and outface the brow Of bragging horror ; so shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviors from the great, Grow great by your example, and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution.
الصفحة 44 - I should be as merry as the day is long ; And so I would be here, but that I doubt My uncle practises more harm to me : He is afraid of me, and I of him : Is it my fault that I was...
الصفحة 45 - Or, what good love may I perform for you ? Many a poor man's son would have lain still, And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ; But you at your sick service, had a prince. Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, And call it cunning : Do, an if you will, If Heaven be pleased, that you must use me ill, Why, then you must.
الصفحة 34 - ... greatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool ; to brag, and stamp, and swear, Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ? Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength ? And dost thou now fall over to my foes ? Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff it for shame, And hang a calfs-skin on those recreant limbs.