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 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Výsledky 6-10 z 81
Strana 24
... art not for the fashion of these times , Where none will sweat but for promotion ; And having that , do choke their service up Even with the having : ' tis not so with thee . But , poor old man , thou ... thy pains and husbandry . But come ...
... art not for the fashion of these times , Where none will sweat but for promotion ; And having that , do choke their service up Even with the having : ' tis not so with thee . But , poor old man , thou ... thy pains and husbandry . But come ...
Strana 26
William Shakespeare Alexander Dyce. How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? Cor . Into a thousand that I have forgotten . Sil . O , thou ... art ware of . Touch . Nay , I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit ...
William Shakespeare Alexander Dyce. How many actions most ridiculous Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy ? Cor . Into a thousand that I have forgotten . Sil . O , thou ... art ware of . Touch . Nay , I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit ...
Strana 30
... thou art a mocker of my labour . Well said ! thou lookest cheerly ; and I'll be with thee quickly . — Yet thou liest in the bleak air : come , I will bear thee to some shelter ; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner , if there ...
... thou art a mocker of my labour . Well said ! thou lookest cheerly ; and I'll be with thee quickly . — Yet thou liest in the bleak air : come , I will bear thee to some shelter ; and thou shalt not die for lack of a dinner , if there ...
Strana 32
... Art thou thus bolden'd , man , by thy distress , Or else a rude despiser of good manners , That in civility thou seem'st so empty ? Orl . You touch'd my vein at first : the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of ...
... Art thou thus bolden'd , man , by thy distress , Or else a rude despiser of good manners , That in civility thou seem'st so empty ? Orl . You touch'd my vein at first : the thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of ...
Strana 35
... Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen , Because thou art not seen , ( 73 ) Although thy breath be rude . Heigh - ho ! sing , heigh - ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning , most loving ...
... Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude ; Thy tooth is not so keen , Because thou art not seen , ( 73 ) Although thy breath be rude . Heigh - ho ! sing , heigh - ho ! unto the green holly : Most friendship is feigning , most loving ...
Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví
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...