The Works of Shakespeare, Volumen3J. and P. Knapton, 1752 |
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Página 28
... art is not paft power , nor you past cure . King . Art thou fo confident ? within what space Hop'ft thou my cure ? Hel . The greateft grace lending grace , Ere twice the horses of the fun fhall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ...
... art is not paft power , nor you past cure . King . Art thou fo confident ? within what space Hop'ft thou my cure ? Hel . The greateft grace lending grace , Ere twice the horses of the fun fhall bring Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring ...
Página 39
... art thou good for nothing but taking up , and that thou'rt fcarce worth . Par . Hadft thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee- Laf . Do not plunge thyfelf too far in anger , left thou haften thy tryal ; which if , - -Lord have ...
... art thou good for nothing but taking up , and that thou'rt fcarce worth . Par . Hadft thou not the privilege of antiquity upon thee- Laf . Do not plunge thyfelf too far in anger , left thou haften thy tryal ; which if , - -Lord have ...
Página 40
... thou haft a fon fhall take this disgrace off me ; fcurvy , old , filthy , fcurvy Lord ! well , I muft be patient ... art a general offence , and every man should . beat thee .. I think , thou waft created for men to breathe themselves ...
... thou haft a fon fhall take this disgrace off me ; fcurvy , old , filthy , fcurvy Lord ! well , I muft be patient ... art a general offence , and every man should . beat thee .. I think , thou waft created for men to breathe themselves ...
Página 42
... thou'rt a knave . Clo . You fhould have said , Sir , before a knave , th'art a knave ; that's , before me th'art a knave : this had been truth , Sir . Par . Go to , thou art a witty fool , I have found thee . Clo . Did you find me in ...
... thou'rt a knave . Clo . You fhould have said , Sir , before a knave , th'art a knave ; that's , before me th'art a knave : this had been truth , Sir . Par . Go to , thou art a witty fool , I have found thee . Clo . Did you find me in ...
Página 50
William Shakespeare Mr. Theobald (Lewis). Thou robb'ft me of a moiety : he was my son , But I do wash his name out of my blood , And thou art all my child . Towards Florence is he ? 2 Gen. Ay , Madam . Count . And to be a foldier ? 2 Gen ...
William Shakespeare Mr. Theobald (Lewis). Thou robb'ft me of a moiety : he was my son , But I do wash his name out of my blood , And thou art all my child . Towards Florence is he ? 2 Gen. Ay , Madam . Count . And to be a foldier ? 2 Gen ...
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Términos y frases comunes
againſt anſwer Antigonus Antipholis blood Bohemia Camillo Conft Count defire doft doth Dromio Duke elfe Enter Ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid father Faulc Faulconbridge fear feems felf fent fervice fhall fhew fhould fince firft firſt fome fool foul fpeak France ftand ftill ftir ftrange fuch fure fwear fweet give hand hath hear heart heav'n himſelf honour houſe Hubert Illyria John King King John knave Lady loft Lord lyes Madam mafter Malvolio Marry Melun miſtreſs moft moſt muft muſt myſelf night Paffage pleaſe pray prefent purpoſe reaſon ſay SCENE changes ſhall ſhe Shep Sicilia Sir Toby ſpeak ſtay tell thee thefe there's theſe thine thofe thoſe thou art thouſand underſtand uſe whofe whoſe wife worfe yourſelf
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.