The Plays of Shakspeare, Svazek 1Hurst, Robinson, and Company, 1819 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 1-5 z 61
Strana 9
... knaves . Gon . I would with such perfection govern , sir , To excel the golden age . Seb . ' Save his majesty ! Ant . Long live Gonzalo ! Gon . And , do you mark me , sir ? - Alon . Pr'ythee , no more : thou dost talk no- thing to me ...
... knaves . Gon . I would with such perfection govern , sir , To excel the golden age . Seb . ' Save his majesty ! Ant . Long live Gonzalo ! Gon . And , do you mark me , sir ? - Alon . Pr'ythee , no more : thou dost talk no- thing to me ...
Strana 23
... knave , - His mother was a witch ; and one so strong That could controul the moon , make flows and ebbs , And deal in her command , without her power : These three have robb'd me ; and this demi - devil ( For he's a bastard one , ) had ...
... knave , - His mother was a witch ; and one so strong That could controul the moon , make flows and ebbs , And deal in her command , without her power : These three have robb'd me ; and this demi - devil ( For he's a bastard one , ) had ...
Strana 38
... knave : but that's all one , if he be but one knave . He lives not now , that knows me to be in love ; yet I am in love ; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me ; nor who ' tis I love , and yet Val . No Valentine , indeed ...
... knave : but that's all one , if he be but one knave . He lives not now , that knows me to be in love ; yet I am in love ; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me ; nor who ' tis I love , and yet Val . No Valentine , indeed ...
Strana 54
... knave Rugby ? Quick . What , John Rugby ! John ! Rug . Here , sir . Caius . You are John Rugby , and you are Jack Rugby : Come , take - a your rapier , and come after my heel to de court . Rug . ' Tis ready , sir , here in the porch ...
... knave Rugby ? Quick . What , John Rugby ! John ! Rug . Here , sir . Caius . You are John Rugby , and you are Jack Rugby : Come , take - a your rapier , and come after my heel to de court . Rug . ' Tis ready , sir , here in the porch ...
Strana 59
... knave ! I know him not : -yet I wrong him , to call him Fal . Have you importuned her to such a pur - poor ; they say , the jealous wittolly knave hath pose ? Ford . Never . Fal . Of what quality was your love then ? Ford . Like a fair ...
... knave ! I know him not : -yet I wrong him , to call him Fal . Have you importuned her to such a pur - poor ; they say , the jealous wittolly knave hath pose ? Ford . Never . Fal . Of what quality was your love then ? Ford . Like a fair ...
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The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson, George ... William Shakespeare,Samuel Johnson,George Steevens Náhled není k dispozici. - 2016 |
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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...