The Works of William Shakespeare: The taming of the shrew. All's well that ends well. Twelfth night: or, What you will. The winter's taleMacmillan, 1891 |
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Página 6
... true diligence He is no less than what we say he is . Lord . Take him up gently and to bed with him ; 70 And each one to his office when he wakes . [ Some bear out Sly . A trumpet sounds . Sirrah , go see what trumpet ' tis that sounds ...
... true diligence He is no less than what we say he is . Lord . Take him up gently and to bed with him ; 70 And each one to his office when he wakes . [ Some bear out Sly . A trumpet sounds . Sirrah , go see what trumpet ' tis that sounds ...
Página 7
... true : thou didst it excellent . Well , you are come to me in happy time ; The rather for I have some sport in hand Wherein your cunning can assist me much . There is a lord will hear you play to - night : But I am doubtful of your ...
... true : thou didst it excellent . Well , you are come to me in happy time ; The rather for I have some sport in hand Wherein your cunning can assist me much . There is a lord will hear you play to - night : But I am doubtful of your ...
Página 22
... true , I never thought it possible or likely ; But see , while idly I stood looking on , I found the effect of love in idleness : And now in plainness do confess to thee , That art to me as secret and as dear As Anna to the Queen of ...
... true , I never thought it possible or likely ; But see , while idly I stood looking on , I found the effect of love in idleness : And now in plainness do confess to thee , That art to me as secret and as dear As Anna to the Queen of ...
Página 60
... true rules for old inventions . 60 65 70 75 Enter a Servant . father prays you leave your books , Serv . Mistress ... true ... old ] Ff Q. true ... new Rowe ( ed . 2 ) . true ... odd Theobald . old ... new Long MS . new ... old Malone ...
... true rules for old inventions . 60 65 70 75 Enter a Servant . father prays you leave your books , Serv . Mistress ... true ... old ] Ff Q. true ... new Rowe ( ed . 2 ) . true ... odd Theobald . old ... new Long MS . new ... old Malone ...
Página 90
... true ; it is a paltry cap , A custard - coffin , a bauble , a silken pie : 61 SCENE VI . Pope . ACT v . SCENE III . Hanmer . SCENE VIII . Warbur- ton . 62 Enter ... ] Ff Q ( after line 61 ) . sir ? ] Sir ? ha ! Hanmer . 63 Hab . ] Rowe ...
... true ; it is a paltry cap , A custard - coffin , a bauble , a silken pie : 61 SCENE VI . Pope . ACT v . SCENE III . Hanmer . SCENE VIII . Warbur- ton . 62 Enter ... ] Ff Q ( after line 61 ) . sir ? ] Sir ? ha ! Hanmer . 63 Hab . ] Rowe ...
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The Works of William Shakespeare: The taming of the shrew. All's well that ... William Shakespeare Vista de fragmentos - 1968 |
Términos y frases comunes
Anon Baptista Becket conj Bertram Bian Bianca Bion Biondello Bohemia Bulloch conj Camillo Capell conj Cleomenes Count Daniel conj Duke Dyce Enter Exeunt Exit F₁ F₁F2 F₁Q father Ff Q fool gentleman Gould conj Grant White Gremio Hanmer hast hath Heath conj honour Hortensio Hudson Illyria Jackson conj Johnson conj Kate Kath Katharina Keightley conj King Kinnear conj knave lady Leon Lettsom conj lines in Ff Lord Lucentio madam Malone conj Malvolio marry master mistress Narbon Olivia Padua Petruchio Pope pray prithee prose in Ff Rann Re-enter reading Rousillon Rowe Rowe ed SCENE SCENE II servant Sicilia Signior Sir Toby sirrah speak Staunton conj Steevens conj sweet tell thee Theobald conj there's thine Tranio Vincentio Walker conj Warburton wife
Pasajes populares
Página 307 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 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.
Página 455 - O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength — a malady Most incident to maids...
Página 454 - Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean; so over that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race. This is an art Which does mend nature — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Página 438 - I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest ; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting — Hark you now ! Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weather?
Página 305 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress' let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save. Lay me. O. where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there!
Página 267 - 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 ! Enough ; no more : 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Página 221 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
Página 138 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
Página 445 - When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh ! the doxy over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year; For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh ! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge ; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. The lark, that...