The Plays & Poems of Shakespeare: Twelfth night. Much ado about nothing. As you like itH:O. Bohn, 1857 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 6-10 z 29
Strana 31
... , let it be.— What , ho , Malvolio ! — Mal . 1 Messenger . Re - enter MALVOLIO . Here , madam , at your service . 2 Proclamation of thy perfections . Oli . Run after that same peevish messenger , 1 SCENE V. 31 TWELFTH NIGHT .
... , let it be.— What , ho , Malvolio ! — Mal . 1 Messenger . Re - enter MALVOLIO . Here , madam , at your service . 2 Proclamation of thy perfections . Oli . Run after that same peevish messenger , 1 SCENE V. 31 TWELFTH NIGHT .
Strana 32
... Madam , I will . [ Exit . Oli . I do I know not what ; and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind . Fate , show thy force . Ourselves we do not owe : What is decreed , must be ; and be this so ! ૨ [ Exit . ACT II ...
... Madam , I will . [ Exit . Oli . I do I know not what ; and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind . Fate , show thy force . Ourselves we do not owe : What is decreed , must be ; and be this so ! ૨ [ Exit . ACT II ...
Strana 62
... madam . Oli . For him , I think not on him : for his thoughts , Would they were blanks , rather than fill'd with me ! Vio . Madam , I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf : - Oli . : - O , by your leave , I pray you ; I bade ...
... madam . Oli . For him , I think not on him : for his thoughts , Would they were blanks , rather than fill'd with me ! Vio . Madam , I come to whet your gentle thoughts On his behalf : - Oli . : - O , by your leave , I pray you ; I bade ...
Strana 64
... madam , to my lord by me ? Oli . Stay : I pr'ythee , tell me , what thou think'st of me . Vio . That you do think , you are not what you are . Oli . If I think so , I think the same of you . Vio . Then think you right ; I am not what I ...
... madam , to my lord by me ? Oli . Stay : I pr'ythee , tell me , what thou think'st of me . Vio . That you do think , you are not what you are . Oli . If I think so , I think the same of you . Vio . Then think you right ; I am not what I ...
Strana 65
William Shakespeare Abraham John Valpy. And so adieu , good madam ; never more Will I my master's tears to you deplore . Oli . Yet come again : for thou , perhaps , mayst move , That heart , which now abhors , to like his love . [ Exeunt ...
William Shakespeare Abraham John Valpy. And so adieu , good madam ; never more Will I my master's tears to you deplore . Oli . Yet come again : for thou , perhaps , mayst move , That heart , which now abhors , to like his love . [ Exeunt ...
Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
Antonio Audrey Beatrice better Borachio brother Celia Clau Clown cousin daughter dear Don John Don Pedro dost thou doth Duke F Exeunt Exit eyes Fabian fair faith father fellow fool forest forest of Arden fortune Friar gentle gentleman give grace hand hath hear heart Hero hither honor Illyria Jaques lady Leonato live look lord madam Malvolio Maria marriage marry master Master constable Messina mistress never niece night Olivia Orlando Orsino Phebe pr'ythee prince Rosalind SCENE Sebastian SHAK signior Benedick sing sir Andrew SIR ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK SIR TOBY BELCH sir Topas soul speak swear sweet tell thank there's thing thou art thou hast to-morrow tongue Touch troth TWELFTH NIGHT Viola wilt woman word young youth
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 47 - ... 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.
Strana 277 - twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.
Strana 7 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Strana 282 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.
Strana 281 - Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school : and then, the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
Strana 282 - 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.
Strana 272 - Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither ; Here shall ye see No enemy, But winter and rough weather Who doth ambition shun, . And loves to live i...
Strana 261 - 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 but 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.
Strana 283 - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, That dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember'd not Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c.
Strana 49 - 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.