摘抄作为语文课外学习的一项内容，与课堂学习不是截然分开的。一方面它应有自身的计划与安排，另一方面它也应随时成为课堂教学的。好助手，与课堂教学相得益彰。本文是漂亮的编辑给大伙儿分享的英文名著好段摘抄【优秀3篇】，希望能够帮助到大家。
To be, or not to be- that is the question:
Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them.
To die- to sleep-No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to.Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be die- to sleep- perchance to dream: ay, theres the rub!
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.Theres the respect That makes calamity of so long life.For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,Th oppressors wrong, the proud mans contumely,The pangs of despisd love, the laws delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th unworthy takes,When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would these fardels bear,To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death-The undiscoverd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns- puzzles the will,And makes us rather bear those ills we haveThan fly to others that we know not of?Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied oer with the pale cast of thought,And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action.
Youll pass the churchyard, Mr Lockwood, on your way back to the Grange, and youll see the three graverestones close to the moor.
Catherines, the middle one, is old now, and half buried in plants which have grown over it.
On one side is Edgar Lintons, and on the other is Heathcliffs new one.
If you stay there a moment, and watch the insects flying in the warm summer air, and listen to the soft wind breathing through the grass, youll understand how quietly they rest, the sleepers in that quiet earth.
The founders of a new colony, whatever Utopia of human virtue and happiness they might originally project, have invariably recognised it among their earliest practical necessities to allot a portion of the virgin soil as a cemetery, and another portion as the site of a prison.
In accordance with this rule, it may safely be assumed that the forefathers of Boston had built the first prison-house somewhere in the vicinity of Cornhill, almost as seasonably as they marked out the first burial-ground, on Isaac Johnsons lot, and round about his grave, which subsequently became the nucleus of all the congregated sepulchres in the old churchyard of Kings Chapel.
Certain it is that, some fifteen or twenty years after the settlement of the town, the wooden jail was already marked with weather-stains and other indications of age, which gave a yet darker aspect to its beetle-browed and gloomy front.
The rust on the ponderous iron-work of its oaken door looked more antique than any thing else in the New World.
Like all that pertains to crime, it seemed never to have known a youthful era.
Before this ugly edifice, and between it and the wheel-track of the street, was a grass-plot, much overgrown with burdock, pig-weed, apple-peru, and such unsightly vegetation, which evidently found something congenial in the soil that had so early borne the black flower of civilised society, a prison.
But, on one side of the portal, and rooted almost at the threshold, was a wild rose-bush, covered, in this month of June, with its delicate gems, which might be imagined to offer their fragrance and fragile beauty to the prisoner as he went in, and to the condemned criminal as he came forth to his doom, in token that the deep heart of Nature could pity and be kind to him.