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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Výsledky 6-10 z 100
Strana 29
... thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a little . If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage , I will either be food for it , or bring it for food to thee . Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers . For my sake ...
... thee ? Live a little ; comfort a little ; cheer thyself a little . If this uncouth forest yield any thing savage , I will either be food for it , or bring it for food to thee . Thy conceit is nearer death than thy powers . For my sake ...
Strana 30
... thee presently ; and if I bring thee not something to eat , I will give thee leave to die : but if thou diest before I come , thou art a mocker of my labour . Well said ! thou lookest cheerly ; and I'll be with thee quickly . — Yet thou ...
... thee presently ; and if I bring thee not something to eat , I will give thee leave to die : but if thou diest before I come , thou art a mocker of my labour . Well said ! thou lookest cheerly ; and I'll be with thee quickly . — Yet thou ...
Strana 36
... thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee . Oli . O , that your highness knew my heart in this ! I never lov'd my brother in my life . Duke F. More villain thou . - Well , push him out of doors ; And let my officers of ...
... thee by thy brother's mouth Of what we think against thee . Oli . O , that your highness knew my heart in this ! I never lov'd my brother in my life . Duke F. More villain thou . - Well , push him out of doors ; And let my officers of ...
Strana 45
... thee believe I love . Ros . Me believe it ! you may as soon make her that you love believe it ; which , I warrant , she is apter to do than to confess she does : that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their ...
... thee believe I love . Ros . Me believe it ! you may as soon make her that you love believe it ; which , I warrant , she is apter to do than to confess she does : that is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their ...
Strana 47
... thee and thy goats , as the most capricious poet , honest Ovid , was among the Goths . Jaq . [ aside ] O knowledge ill - inhabited , -worse than Jove in a thatched house ! Touch . When a man's verses cannot be understood , nor a man's ...
... thee and thy goats , as the most capricious poet , honest Ovid , was among the Goths . Jaq . [ aside ] O knowledge ill - inhabited , -worse than Jove in a thatched house ! Touch . When a man's verses cannot be understood , nor a man's ...
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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...