The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, from the text of Johnson, Stevens [sic], and Reed, with glossarial notes, Díl 47,Svazek 1 |
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Strana 216
... Pompey the great . Pom- pey , you are partly a bawd , Pompey , howsoever you colour it in being a tapster . Are you not ? come , tell me true ; it shall be the better for you . Clo . Truly , Sir , I am a poor fellow , that would live ...
... Pompey the great . Pom- pey , you are partly a bawd , Pompey , howsoever you colour it in being a tapster . Are you not ? come , tell me true ; it shall be the better for you . Clo . Truly , Sir , I am a poor fellow , that would live ...
Strana 217
... Pompey , I shall have you whipt : so for this time , Pompey , fare you well . Clo . Ithank your worship for your good counsel ; but I shall follow it , as the flesh and fortune shall better determine . Whip me ? No , no ; let carman ...
... Pompey , I shall have you whipt : so for this time , Pompey , fare you well . Clo . Ithank your worship for your good counsel ; but I shall follow it , as the flesh and fortune shall better determine . Whip me ? No , no ; let carman ...
Strana 233
... Pompey ? What , at the heels of Cæsar ? Art thou led in triumph ? What , is there none of Pygmalion's images , newly ... Pompey ? Clo . Yes , faith , Sir . * For a Spanish padlock . † Tied like your waist with a rope . Powdering ...
... Pompey ? What , at the heels of Cæsar ? Art thou led in triumph ? What , is there none of Pygmalion's images , newly ... Pompey ? Clo . Yes , faith , Sir . * For a Spanish padlock . † Tied like your waist with a rope . Powdering ...
Strana 234
... Pompey : Commend me to the prison , Pompey : You will turn good husband now , Pompey ; you will keep the house . * Clo . I hope , Sir , your good worship will be my bail . Lucio . No , indeed , will I not , Pompey ; it is not the wear ...
... Pompey : Commend me to the prison , Pompey : You will turn good husband now , Pompey ; you will keep the house . * Clo . I hope , Sir , your good worship will be my bail . Lucio . No , indeed , will I not , Pompey ; it is not the wear ...
Strana 394
... Pompey the Great ; the page , Hercules . Arm . Pardon , Sir , error : he is not quantity enough for that worthy's thumb : he is not so big as the end of his club . Hol . Shall I have audience ? he shall present Hercules in minority ...
... Pompey the Great ; the page , Hercules . Arm . Pardon , Sir , error : he is not quantity enough for that worthy's thumb : he is not so big as the end of his club . Hol . Shall I have audience ? he shall present Hercules in minority ...
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Angelo Antonio art thou Bass Bassanio Beat Benedick better Biron Boyet brother Caius Caliban Claud Claudio COSTARD daughter dear Demetrius Dogb doth ducats Duke Enter Escal Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father fear fool Ford friar gentle gentleman give grace hath hear heart heaven Hermia Hero hither honour Host Illyria Isab King lady Laun Leon Leonato look lord Lucio Lysander Madam maid Malvolio marry master constable master doctor mistress Moth never night Pedro Pompey pr'ythee Proteus Prov Puck Re-enter Rosalind SCENE Shal Shylock signior Silvia sing SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK Sir Toby Slen soul speak Speed swear sweet tell thank there's Theseus thine thou art thou hast thou shalt Thurio to-morrow tongue troth true Valentine What's woman word youth
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Strana 463 - How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines...
Strana 76 - A blank, my lord : She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Strana 415 - In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: It wearies me; you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn ; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That I have much ado to know myself.
Strana 348 - The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report what my dream was.
Strana 492 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, 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...
Strana 454 - The slaves are ours : — So do I answer you : The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, Is dearly bought, is mine, and I will have it : If you deny me, fie upon your law ! There is no force in the decrees of Venice : I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it?
Strana 391 - And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write, Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs ; O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility. From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world; Else, none at all in aught proves excellent: Then fools you were, these...
Strana 138 - Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.
Strana 413 - When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear! When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo;...
Strana 43 - Mrs. Page. There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns ; And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle8; And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner.