Works: Tempest. Two gentlemen of Verona. Merry wives of Windsor. Measure for measure. Comedy of errors. Much ado about nothing. Love's labour's lost. A midsummer-night's dream. The merchant of Venice. As you like it. Taming of the shrew. All's well that ends well. Twelfth night, or What you will. Winter's tale. King JohnG. Routledge, 1889 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 1-5 z 74
Strana 15
... live . Seb . Of that there's none , or little . Gon . How lush and lusty the grass looks ! how green ! Ant . The ground , indeed , is tawny . Seb . With an eye of green in ' t . Ant . He misses not much . Seb . No ; he doth but mistake ...
... live . Seb . Of that there's none , or little . Gon . How lush and lusty the grass looks ! how green ! Ant . The ground , indeed , is tawny . Seb . With an eye of green in ' t . Ant . He misses not much . Seb . No ; he doth but mistake ...
Strana 16
... , she too , Who is so far from Italy remov'd , I ne'er again shall see her . O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan , what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee ? Fran . Sir , he may live ; I saw 16 [ ACT II . TEMPEST .
... , she too , Who is so far from Italy remov'd , I ne'er again shall see her . O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan , what strange fish Hath made his meal on thee ? Fran . Sir , he may live ; I saw 16 [ ACT II . TEMPEST .
Strana 17
William Shakespeare Charles Knight. Fran . Sir , he may live ; I saw him beat the surges under him , And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water , Whose enmity he flung aside , and breasted The surge most swoln that met him ; his bold ...
William Shakespeare Charles Knight. Fran . Sir , he may live ; I saw him beat the surges under him , And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water , Whose enmity he flung aside , and breasted The surge most swoln that met him ; his bold ...
Strana 18
... live Gonzalo ! Gon . And , do you mark me , sir ? — Alon . Prithee , no more : thou dost talk nothing to me . Gon . I do well believe your highness ; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen , who are of such sensible and ...
... live Gonzalo ! Gon . And , do you mark me , sir ? — Alon . Prithee , no more : thou dost talk nothing to me . Gon . I do well believe your highness ; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen , who are of such sensible and ...
Strana 33
... live ; whom once again I tender to thy hand : all thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love , and thou Hast strangely stood the test : here , afore Heaven , I ratify this my rich gift . O Ferdinand , Do not smile at me that I boast ...
... live ; whom once again I tender to thy hand : all thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love , and thou Hast strangely stood the test : here , afore Heaven , I ratify this my rich gift . O Ferdinand , Do not smile at me that I boast ...
Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
Angelo art thou Bast Beat Benedick better Biron blood Boyet brother Caius Claud Claudio COSTARD daughter dear death dost thou doth ducats Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father Faulconbridge fear fool Ford gentle gentleman give grace Gremio hand hath hear heart heaven Hermia hither honour husband Illyria Isab John Kath King knave lady Laun Leon Leonato look lord Lucio Lysander madam maid Malvolio marry master master doctor mistress Moth never night pardon Pedro Pompey pray prince prithee Proteus Puck Re-enter Rosalind SCENE servant Shylock signior Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK soul speak Speed swear sweet tell thank thee there's Theseus thine thou art thou hast thou shalt Thurio tongue Tranio troth true unto villain What's wife woman word
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 793 - O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. — This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Strana 464 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we not the penalty of Adam. The seasons' difference, — as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body. Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 'This is no flattery' — these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.