The Plays of Shakspeare, Svazek 1Hurst, Robinson, and Company, 1819 |
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Výsledky 1-5 z 100
Strana 3
... Thou had'st , and more , Miranda : But how is it , That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else In the dark ... Dost hear ? Mira . Your tale , sir , would cure deafness . Pro . To have no screen between this part he play'd And him ...
... Thou had'st , and more , Miranda : But how is it , That this lives in thy mind ? What seest thou else In the dark ... Dost hear ? Mira . Your tale , sir , would cure deafness . Pro . To have no screen between this part he play'd And him ...
Strana 5
... thou dost give me pains , Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd , Which is not yet perform'd me . Pro . How now ? moody ? What is't thou can'st demand ? Ari . My liberty . Pro . Before the time be out ? no more . Ari . I pray thee ...
... thou dost give me pains , Let me remember thee what thou hast promis'd , Which is not yet perform'd me . Pro . How now ? moody ? What is't thou can'st demand ? Ari . My liberty . Pro . Before the time be out ? no more . Ari . I pray thee ...
Strana 6
... thou Deservedly confin'd into this rock , Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison . Cal . You taught me language ; and ... dost unwillingly What I command , I'll rack thee with old cramps ; Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar ...
... thou Deservedly confin'd into this rock , Who hadst deserv'd more than a prison . Cal . You taught me language ; and ... dost unwillingly What I command , I'll rack thee with old cramps ; Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar ...
Strana 12
... Thou dost me yet but little hurt ; thou the man in the moon , when time was . wilt And I with my long nails will dig thee pig. Cal . Do not torment me : O ! Ste . What's the matter ? Have we devils here ? Do you put tricks upon us with ...
... Thou dost me yet but little hurt ; thou the man in the moon , when time was . wilt And I with my long nails will dig thee pig. Cal . Do not torment me : O ! Ste . What's the matter ? Have we devils here ? Do you put tricks upon us with ...
Strana 15
... thou not say , he lied ? Ari . Thou liest . Ste . Do I so ? take thou that . [ Strikes him . As you like this , give ... Dost thou like the plot , Trinculo ? Trin . Excellent . Ste . Give me thy hand ; I am sorry I beat thee ; but ...
... thou not say , he lied ? Ari . Thou liest . Ste . Do I so ? take thou that . [ Strikes him . As you like this , give ... Dost thou like the plot , Trinculo ? Trin . Excellent . Ste . Give me thy hand ; I am sorry I beat thee ; but ...
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The Plays of Shakspeare Samuel Johnson,Isaac Reed,George Steevens Náhled není k dispozici. - 2015 |
The Plays of Shakspeare Samuel Johnson,Isaac Reed,George Steevens Náhled není k dispozici. - 2015 |
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Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 255 - With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose well...
Strana 12 - A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm, o
Strana 168 - Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be: In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.
Strana 88 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there ! Duke.
Strana 462 - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas ! poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...