The Beauties of Shakspeare Regularly Selected from Each Play. With a General Index, Digesting Them Under Proper HeadsT. Bedlington, 1827 - Počet stran: 345 |
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Strana 17
... DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER . O , thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into , Thou hast not lov'd : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now , Wearying thy hearer in ...
... DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER . O , thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into , Thou hast not lov'd : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now , Wearying thy hearer in ...
Strana 17
... DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER . O , thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into , Thou hast not lov'd : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now , Wearying thy hearer in ...
... DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER . O , thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into , Thou hast not lov'd : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now , Wearying thy hearer in ...
Strana 17
... DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER . O , thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into , Thou hast not lov'd : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now , Wearying thy hearer in ...
... DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER . O , thou didst then ne'er love so heartily : If thou remember'st not the slightest folly That ever love did make thee run into , Thou hast not lov'd : Or if thou hast not sat as I do now , Wearying thy hearer in ...
Strana 22
... DESCRIPTION OF HIS DANGER WHEN SLEEPING . Under an oak , whose boughs were moss'd with age , And high top bald with dry antiquity , A wretched ragged man , o'ergrown with hair , Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck A green and ...
... DESCRIPTION OF HIS DANGER WHEN SLEEPING . Under an oak , whose boughs were moss'd with age , And high top bald with dry antiquity , A wretched ragged man , o'ergrown with hair , Lay sleeping on his back : about his neck A green and ...
Strana 24
... DESCRIPTION OF A BEGGARLY FORTUNE - TELLER . A hungry lean - fac'd villain , A mere anatomy , a mountebank , A thread - bare juggler , and a fortune - teller ; A needy , hollow - ey'd , sharp - looking wretch , A living dead man : this ...
... DESCRIPTION OF A BEGGARLY FORTUNE - TELLER . A hungry lean - fac'd villain , A mere anatomy , a mountebank , A thread - bare juggler , and a fortune - teller ; A needy , hollow - ey'd , sharp - looking wretch , A living dead man : this ...
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Achilles Agamemnon Ajax Antony Aposiopesis art thou banishment bear beauty blood bosom breath brows Brutus Cassius Cesar cheek Coriolanus crown curse Cymbeline dear death deed described Desdemona didst dost thou doth dream earth eyes fair fair ladies father fear fool fortune friends gentle Ghost give grief hand hang hath head hear heart heaven honour hour Iago iron tongue king kiss Lady live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd maid melancholy midnight bell mother murder nature ne'er never night noble o'er Pandarus passion Patroclus pity poor princes proud Queen revenge Richard III shame sleep soliloquy sorrow soul speak speech spirit stamp'd sweet Sycorax tears thee thine thing thou art thou hast thoughts tongue true twice-told tale unto vex'd villain virtue weep wife wind woman words young youth
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Strana 61 - Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; In a cowslip's bell I lie : There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly, After summer, merrily : Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
Strana 103 - FEAR no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages. Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o...
Strana 130 - He's here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
Strana 70 - Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Strana 17 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit ; Tu-who...
Strana 127 - I'll kneel down, And ask of thee forgiveness. So we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them too, Who loses, and who wins ; who's in, who's out ; And take...
Strana 130 - 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 132 - s his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.
Strana 60 - twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault Set roaring war : to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promontory...
Strana 102 - Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharp as will, My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent, And, like a man to double business bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect. What if this cursed hand Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow?