The beauties of Shakespeare, selected from his plays and poems |
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Strana xi
... thou go fo faft ? Read , if thou canft , whom envious Death hath plac'd Within this monument ; Shakspeare , with whom Quick Nature died , whofe name doth deck the tomb • Far more than cost ; fince all that he hath writ • Leaves living Art ...
... thou go fo faft ? Read , if thou canft , whom envious Death hath plac'd Within this monument ; Shakspeare , with whom Quick Nature died , whofe name doth deck the tomb • Far more than cost ; fince all that he hath writ • Leaves living Art ...
Strana 10
... thou the king . Woe doth the heavier fit , Where it perceives it is but faintly borne . Go fay , I fent thee forth to purchase honour , And not the king exil'd thee . Or fuppofe Devouring peftilence hangs in our air , And thou art ...
... thou the king . Woe doth the heavier fit , Where it perceives it is but faintly borne . Go fay , I fent thee forth to purchase honour , And not the king exil'd thee . Or fuppofe Devouring peftilence hangs in our air , And thou art ...
Strana 12
... thy happy years , That fay thou art a man : Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe is , as the maiden's organ , fhrill and found ; And all is femblative a woman's part . Twelfth Night , A. 2. Sc . 4- BEAUTY ...
... thy happy years , That fay thou art a man : Diana's lip Is not more smooth and rubious ; thy small pipe is , as the maiden's organ , fhrill and found ; And all is femblative a woman's part . Twelfth Night , A. 2. Sc . 4- BEAUTY ...
Strana 14
... art thou ? Have not I An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? Thy words , I grant , are bigger : for I wear not My dagger in my mouth .. BRUTUS . Cymbeline , A. 4. Sc . 3 , This was the nobleft Roman of them all ; All the confpirators ...
... art thou ? Have not I An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? Thy words , I grant , are bigger : for I wear not My dagger in my mouth .. BRUTUS . Cymbeline , A. 4. Sc . 3 , This was the nobleft Roman of them all ; All the confpirators ...
Strana 37
... thou art a wickedness Macbeth , A. 5. Sc . 3 : Wherein the pregnant enemy does much . Twelfth Night , A.2 . Sc . 1 . DISLIK E. At first Iftuck my choice upon her , ere my heart Durft make too bold a herald of my tongue : Where the ...
... thou art a wickedness Macbeth , A. 5. Sc . 3 : Wherein the pregnant enemy does much . Twelfth Night , A.2 . Sc . 1 . DISLIK E. At first Iftuck my choice upon her , ere my heart Durft make too bold a herald of my tongue : Where the ...
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The Beauties of Shakespeare: Selected from His Plays and Poems William Shakespeare Úplné zobrazení - 1783 |
The Beauties of Shakespeare; Selected from His Plays and Poems William Shakespeare Úplné zobrazení - 1783 |
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againſt Antony Antony and Cleopatra Apem blood Brutus Caffius Clown Coriolanus Cymbeline death deed doft thou doth Duke Exeunt eyes falfe father fear feem fhall fhew fhould firft fleep fmile fome fool forrow foul fpeak fpirit friends ftand ftill ftrange fuch fweet fword Gentlemen of Verona Ghoft give grace Hamlet hath hear heart heaven Henry IV himſelf honour Iago Ibid Ifab itſelf Julius Cæfar King Henry King Lear King Richard King Richard III Lady Lear look Lord Macb Macbeth Meaſure Merchant of Venice moft moſt mufic muft muſt myſelf never night noble Othello pleaſe Pleb poor Prince purpoſe reafon Romeo ſhall ſhe ſpeak tears tell thee thefe theſe thine thing thofe thoſe thou art thouſand Timon Timon of Athens tongue uſe whofe Winter's Tale yourſelf
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Strana 282 - 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.
Strana 282 - And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 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...
Strana 149 - I hate him for he is a Christian ; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
Strana 137 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly; if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success : that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come.
Strana 199 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.
Strana 82 - The lunatic, the lover and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name.
Strana 54 - Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba ! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?
Strana 67 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Strana 89 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
Strana 281 - O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what weep you, when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.