The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors. Macbeth. King JohnC. Whittingham, 1826 |
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Výsledky 1-5 z 97
Strana 11
... death , Ere I could make thee open thy white hand , And clap 12 thyself my love ; then didst thou utter , I am yours for ever . Her . It is grace , indeed.— Why , lo you now , I have spoke to the purpose twice : The one for ever earn'd ...
... death , Ere I could make thee open thy white hand , And clap 12 thyself my love ; then didst thou utter , I am yours for ever . Her . It is grace , indeed.— Why , lo you now , I have spoke to the purpose twice : The one for ever earn'd ...
Strana 12
... death of the deer . The mort was also certain notes played on the horn at the death of the deer . 15 Bawcock . ' A burlesque word of endearment supposed to be derived from beau - coq , or boy - cock . It occurs again in Twelfth Night ...
... death of the deer . The mort was also certain notes played on the horn at the death of the deer . 15 Bawcock . ' A burlesque word of endearment supposed to be derived from beau - coq , or boy - cock . It occurs again in Twelfth Night ...
Strana 44
... 'd , of course his age must be under thirty , and his own beard would hardly be gray . 15 It was anciently a practice to swear by the cross at the hilt of a sword . Of any point in't shall not only be Death to 44 ACT II . WINTER'S TALE .
... 'd , of course his age must be under thirty , and his own beard would hardly be gray . 15 It was anciently a practice to swear by the cross at the hilt of a sword . Of any point in't shall not only be Death to 44 ACT II . WINTER'S TALE .
Strana 45
... death Had been more merciful . - Come on , poor babe : Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens , To be thy nurses ! Wolves , and bears , they say , Casting their savageness aside , have done Like offices of pity . - Sir , be ...
... death Had been more merciful . - Come on , poor babe : Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens , To be thy nurses ! Wolves , and bears , they say , Casting their savageness aside , have done Like offices of pity . - Sir , be ...
Strana 51
... death . Her . Sir , spare your threats ; The bug 11 , which you would fright me with , I seek . To me can life be no commodity : The crown and comfort of my life , your favour , I do give lost ; for I do feel it gone , But know not how ...
... death . Her . Sir , spare your threats ; The bug 11 , which you would fright me with , I seek . To me can life be no commodity : The crown and comfort of my life , your favour , I do give lost ; for I do feel it gone , But know not how ...
Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
Antigonus Antipholus Arthur Autolycus Banquo Bast Bastard bear Ben Jonson blood Bohemia breath Camillo CLEOMENES Comedy of Errors Const death deed dost doth Dromio Duke Duncan England Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes father Faulconbridge fear Fleance France give grief hand hath hear heart heaven Hermione Holinshed honour Hubert husband Julius Cæsar King Henry King Henry IV King John Lady LADY MACBETH Leon Leontes look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff Malone master means mistress murder night o'er old copy reads old play passage Paul Paulina peace Polixenes pray prince queen Rosse SCENE Shakspeare Shakspeare's Shep Sicilia sleep soul speak Steevens swear sweet tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought tongue villain wife Winter's Tale Witch word
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 326 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Strana 240 - The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still.
Strana 434 - 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 396 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Strana 73 - Say there be ; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race : this is an art ~\\ hich does mend nature, — change it rather ; but The art itself is nature.
Strana 228 - The effect, and it. Come to .my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor ! Enter MACBETH.
Strana 75 - What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Strana 271 - Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time, Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear: the times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end: but now, they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools: This is more strange Than such a murder is.
Strana 251 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time ; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality : All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
Strana 234 - d yourself ? hath it slept since ? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and...