The winter's tale. The life and death of King John. The tragedy of King Richard II. The first part of King Henry IV. The second part of King Henry IV. The life of King Henry VG. Barrie & Son, 1894 |
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Página 8
... Art thou my boy ? Mam . Leon . Ay , my good lord . * Death . I ' fecks ! * I 20 Why , that's my bawcock . † What , hast smutch'd thy nose ? * In faith . † Fine fellow . They say it is a copy out of mine . Come , cap- tain , We must be ...
... Art thou my boy ? Mam . Leon . Ay , my good lord . * Death . I ' fecks ! * I 20 Why , that's my bawcock . † What , hast smutch'd thy nose ? * In faith . † Fine fellow . They say it is a copy out of mine . Come , cap- tain , We must be ...
Página 12
... thou Hast cleansed my bosom , I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd : but we have been Deceived in thy integrity , deceived In that which seems so . Cam . 240 Be it forbid , my lord ! Leon . To bide upon't , thou art not honest , or , ...
... thou Hast cleansed my bosom , I from thee departed Thy penitent reform'd : but we have been Deceived in thy integrity , deceived In that which seems so . Cam . 240 Be it forbid , my lord ! Leon . To bide upon't , thou art not honest , or , ...
Página 23
... , the ordering on't , is all Properly ours . Ânt . And I wish , my liege , You had only in your silent judgement tried it , Without more overture . 170 Leon . How could that be ? Either thou art SCENE I. ] 23 THE WINTER'S TALE .
... , the ordering on't , is all Properly ours . Ânt . And I wish , my liege , You had only in your silent judgement tried it , Without more overture . 170 Leon . How could that be ? Either thou art SCENE I. ] 23 THE WINTER'S TALE .
Página 24
William Shakespeare. Leon . How could that be ? Either thou art most ignorant by age , Or thou wert born a fool . Camillo's flight , Added to their familiarity , Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture , That lack'd sight only ...
William Shakespeare. Leon . How could that be ? Either thou art most ignorant by age , Or thou wert born a fool . Camillo's flight , Added to their familiarity , Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture , That lack'd sight only ...
Página 29
... thou art woman - tired , * unroosted By thy dame Partlet here . Take up the bastard ; Take't up , I say ; give't to thy crone . Paul . Unvenerable be thy hands , if thou * Hen - pecked . For ever Takest up the princess by that forced ...
... thou art woman - tired , * unroosted By thy dame Partlet here . Take up the bastard ; Take't up , I say ; give't to thy crone . Paul . Unvenerable be thy hands , if thou * Hen - pecked . For ever Takest up the princess by that forced ...
Términos y frases comunes
arms art thou Aumerle AUTOLYCUS Bard Bardolph Bast beseech BISHOP OF CARLISLE blood Bohemia Boling Bolingbroke breath brother Camillo cousin crown Dauphin dead death doth Duke Duke of Hereford Eastcheap England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith Falstaff Farewell father fear France French friends Gaunt gentle give grace grief hand Harfleur Harry Harry Percy hath hear heart heaven honour horse Host king Lady Leon liege live look lord majesty Master never night noble Northumberland pardon peace Percy Pist Poins pray Prince Prince of Wales queen Re-enter Rich SCENE Shal shalt shame Shep Sicilia Sir John Sir John Falstaff soldiers soul speak stand swear sweet sword tell thee thine thou art thou hast tongue true uncle unto Westmoreland wilt word York Zounds ΙΟ
Pasajes populares
Página 472 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood...
Página 135 - 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?
Página 505 - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile This day shall gentle his condition: And gentlemen in England now a-bed Shall think themselves...
Página 330 - tis no matter ; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg ? No. Or an arm ? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour ? A word. What is in that word, honour ? What is that honour?
Página 387 - With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Página 330 - tis no matter ; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg ? no : or an arm ? no : or take away the grief of a wound ? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then ? no. What is honour ? a word. What is in that word honour ? what is that honour ? air. A trim reckoning ! Who hath it ? he that died o
Página 465 - A made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child. A parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. "How now, Sir John!" quoth I; "what, man! be o
Página 169 - 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 216 - All murder'd: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be...