The Works of Shakespeare, Volumen3J. and P. Knapton, 1752 |
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Página 284
... Shep . What , art so near ? if thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten , come hither . What ail'st thou , man ? Clo . I have seen two such fights , by sea and by land ; but I am not to say , it is a fea ; for it is ...
... Shep . What , art so near ? if thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten , come hither . What ail'st thou , man ? Clo . I have seen two such fights , by sea and by land ; but I am not to say , it is a fea ; for it is ...
Página 285
... Shep . Heavy matters , heavy matters ! but look thee - here , boy . Now bless thyself ; thou meet'st with things dying , I with things new born . Here's a fight for thee ; look thee , a bearing cloth for a squire's child ! look thee ...
... Shep . Heavy matters , heavy matters ! but look thee - here , boy . Now bless thyself ; thou meet'st with things dying , I with things new born . Here's a fight for thee ; look thee , a bearing cloth for a squire's child ! look thee ...
Página 304
... Shep But , my daughter , Say you the like to him ? .. Per . I cannot speak So well , nothing so well , no , nor mean better : By th ' pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his . Shep . Take hands , a bargain ; And ...
... Shep But , my daughter , Say you the like to him ? .. Per . I cannot speak So well , nothing so well , no , nor mean better : By th ' pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his . Shep . Take hands , a bargain ; And ...
Página 313
... Shep . Nay , but hear me . Clo . Nay , but hear me . Shep . Go to then . Clo . She being none of your flesh and blood , your flesh and blood has not offended the King ; and , fo , VOL . III . your flesh and blood is not to be punish'd ...
... Shep . Nay , but hear me . Clo . Nay , but hear me . Shep . Go to then . Clo . She being none of your flesh and blood , your flesh and blood has not offended the King ; and , fo , VOL . III . your flesh and blood is not to be punish'd ...
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Términos y frases comunes
anſwer Antigonus Antipholis beſeech beſt blood Bohemia buſineſs Camillo cauſe Conft Count defire doſt doth Dromio Duke elſe Enter Ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes falſe father Faulc Faulconbridge fear fince firſt fome fool foul France fuch gentleman give hand haſte hath hear heart heav'n honour houſe Hubert Illyria John King knave Lady Lord loſe lyes Madam Malvolio Marry maſter miſtreſs moſt muſt myſelf night Paſſage Philip pleaſe pray preſent purpoſe queſtion reaſon reſt ſay SCENE changes ſee ſeems ſeen ſelf Senſe ſerve ſervice ſet ſhall ſhame ſhe Shep ſhew ſhould ſince Sir Toby ſome ſon ſpeak ſpeed ſpirit ſtand ſtay ſtill ſtrange ſuch ſwear ſweet ſword tell thee there's theſe thine thoſe thou art tongue uſe whoſe wife
Pasajes populares
Página 246 - Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ? Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight ? and all eyes blind With the pin and web,' but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
Página 376 - 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 ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Página 133 - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
Página 407 - 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.
Página 97 - 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.