The Works of William Shakespeare: As you like it. The taming of the shrew. All's well that ends well. Twelfth-night. The winter's taleChapman and Hall, 1866 |
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Strana 21
... Lord . Indeed , my lord , The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; And , in that kind , swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you . To - day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him , as he lay along ...
... Lord . Indeed , my lord , The melancholy Jaques grieves at that ; And , in that kind , swears you do more usurp Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you . To - day my Lord of Amiens and myself Did steal behind him , as he lay along ...
Strana 22
... Lord . We did , my lord , weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer . Duke S. I love to cope him in these sullen fits , Show me the place : For then he's full of matter . First Lord . I'll bring you to him straight . [ Exeunt . SCENE ...
... Lord . We did , my lord , weeping and commenting Upon the sobbing deer . Duke S. I love to cope him in these sullen fits , Show me the place : For then he's full of matter . First Lord . I'll bring you to him straight . [ Exeunt . SCENE ...
Strana 30
... Lord . My lord , he is but even now gone Here was he merry , hearing of a song . Duke S. If he , compact of jars , grow musical , hence : We shall have shortly discord in the spheres . Go , seek him : tell him I would speak with him ...
... Lord . My lord , he is but even now gone Here was he merry , hearing of a song . Duke S. If he , compact of jars , grow musical , hence : We shall have shortly discord in the spheres . Go , seek him : tell him I would speak with him ...
Strana 41
William Shakespeare Alexander Dyce. Cel . O Lord , Lord ! it is a hard matter for friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes , and so encounter . Ros . Nay , but who is it ? Cel . Is it possible ? Ros . Nay , I ...
William Shakespeare Alexander Dyce. Cel . O Lord , Lord ! it is a hard matter for friends to meet ; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes , and so encounter . Ros . Nay , but who is it ? Cel . Is it possible ? Ros . Nay , I ...
Strana 60
... Lords in the habit of foresters , with a dead deer . Jaq . Which is he that killed the deer ? First Lord . Sir , it ... Lord . Yes , sir . Jaq . Sing it : ' tis no matter how it be in tune , so it make noise enough . Song . What shall ...
... Lords in the habit of foresters , with a dead deer . Jaq . Which is he that killed the deer ? First Lord . Sir , it ... Lord . Yes , sir . Jaq . Sing it : ' tis no matter how it be in tune , so it make noise enough . Song . What shall ...
Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
altered Antigonus Baptista Bertram Bianca Bion Biondello Bohemia brother Camillo Capell Collier's Corrector reads Count daughter doth Duke Enter Exam Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fool gentleman give Grant White Grumio Hanmer hath hear heart heaven honour Hortensio Illyria Kate Kath KATHARINA King knave lady Leon look lord Lucentio madam maid Malone Malvolio marry master mean mistress Narbon never Olivia Orlando Padua passage Petruchio play poor pray printed prithee Rosalind Rousillon SCENE second folio Shakespeare Shep Sicilia Signior Sir Andrew Sir Toby Sir TOBY BELCH speak speech Steevens swear sweet tell thee there's thine thing third folio thou art thou hast Tranio W. N. Lettsom Walker Walker's Crit wife Winter's Tale word
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 352 - O fellow, come, the song we had last night: — Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain: The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones. Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love Like the old age.
Strana 354 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed ? We men may say more, swear more ; but indeed Our shows are more than will, for still we prove Much in our vows, but little in our love. DuJce. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all...