 | William Shakespeare, George Steevens - 1829 - 506 str.
...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,... | |
 | Adam Clarke - 1831 - 334 str.
...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 1" If I understand them right, it is in this way, and with this kind of love, that some ascetic or... | |
 | 1828 - 430 str.
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 | William Shakespeare - 1831 - 554 str.
...on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, I She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed? I We men may say more, swear more : but, indeed, Our shows are more than wilt ; for still we prove... | |
 | William Shakespeare - 1831 - 500 str.
...on her damask check : she pin'd in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, I She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? I We men may say more, swear more : but, indeed, Our shows are more than will ; for still we prove... | |
 | 1838 - 264 str.
...Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought, And, with a green and yellow melancholy, Shs sat like Patience on a monument. Smiling at Grief. Was not this love indeed ?" The sigh that burst from the lips of Agnes, as her eyes dropped, and she resumed the fancy-work... | |
 | William Shakespeare - 1833 - 1140 str.
...B'eed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like and her, sir; What have you to do? Pet. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, say more, swear more: but, indeed, Our shows are more than will; for still we prove Much in our vows,... | |
 | 1833 - 280 str.
...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. Was not this love, indeed ? ORS. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,... | |
 | 1833 - 282 str.
...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. Was not this love, indeed ? OR«. But died thy sister of her love, my boy ? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house,... | |
 | 1871 - 340 str.
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A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek. 
