The Temple Shakespeare, Volumen40J.M. Dent and Company, 1906 |
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Página 40
... Serv . Leon . How does the boy ? First Serv . my rest Who's there ? My lord ! He took good rest to - night ; 10 ' Tis hoped his sickness is discharged . Leon . To see his nobleness ! Conceiving the dishonour of his mother , He straight ...
... Serv . Leon . How does the boy ? First Serv . my rest Who's there ? My lord ! He took good rest to - night ; 10 ' Tis hoped his sickness is discharged . Leon . To see his nobleness ! Conceiving the dishonour of his mother , He straight ...
Página 41
... Serv . Madam , he hath not slept to - night ; com- Paul . manded None should come at him . Not so hot , good sir : I come to bring him sleep . ' Tis such as you , That creep like shadows by him , and do sigh At each his needless ...
... Serv . Madam , he hath not slept to - night ; com- Paul . manded None should come at him . Not so hot , good sir : I come to bring him sleep . ' Tis such as you , That creep like shadows by him , and do sigh At each his needless ...
Página 49
... Serv . Please your highness , posts From those you sent to the oracle are come An hour since : Cleomenes and Dion , Being well arrived from Delphos , are both landed , Hasting to the court . First Lord . Leon . So please you , sir ...
... Serv . Please your highness , posts From those you sent to the oracle are come An hour since : Cleomenes and Dion , Being well arrived from Delphos , are both landed , Hasting to the court . First Lord . Leon . So please you , sir ...
Página 57
... Serv . My lord the king , the king ! Leon . What is the business ? Serv . O sir , I shall be hated to report it ! Leon . Serv . The prince your son , with 57 The Winter's Tale Act III . Sc . ii .
... Serv . My lord the king , the king ! Leon . What is the business ? Serv . O sir , I shall be hated to report it ! Leon . Serv . The prince your son , with 57 The Winter's Tale Act III . Sc . ii .
Página 58
William Shakespeare. Leon . Serv . The prince your son , with mere conceit and fear Of the queen's speed , is gone . How ! gone ! Is dead . Leon . Apollo's angry ; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice . [ Hermione faints ...
William Shakespeare. Leon . Serv . The prince your son , with mere conceit and fear Of the queen's speed , is gone . How ! gone ! Is dead . Leon . Apollo's angry ; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice . [ Hermione faints ...
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Términos y frases comunes
Admetus Alcestis Antigonus Apollo Autolycus babe ballad bastard bear behold Ben Jonson beseech blessing blood Bohemia brother Camillo CARBONADOED child clamour Cleo Cleomenes and Dion Clown colour comfort court dare daughter dead death Delphos Deucalion DISCASE dost Enter Leontes Exeunt Exit eyes fardel father fear Florizel Folio follow gentleman George Buck give grace gracious hath hear heart heavens hence Hermione honest honour I'ld king kiss lady Leon live look lord LOZEL madam Mamillius Methinks mistress never o'er oracle Pandosto Paul Paulina Perdita PLACKETS play Polixenes poor pray prince prithee queen Re-enter Scene Servant Shakespeare Shep shepherd Sicilia sing sorrow speak stand stay swear sweet tell thee there's thine thing Third Gent thou art thou hast thought thy hand tongue true twere wife Winter's Tale ΑΔ ΗΡ
Pasajes populares
Página 84 - I'd have you do it ever ; when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too : when you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, and own No other function : each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
Página 85 - This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-sward : nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place.
Página 81 - Say there be ; 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 77 - Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a; A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a.
Página ix - Videlicet Pope ! He said further to Drummond, Shakspeare wanted art, and sometimes sense ; for in one of his plays he brought in a number of men, saying they had suffered shipwreck in Bohemia, where is no sea near by a hundred miles.
Página 81 - Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o...