Works: Tempest. Two gentlemen of Verona. Merry wives of Windsor. Measure for measure. Comedy of errors. Much ado about nothing. Love's labour's lost. A midsummer-night's dream. The merchant of Venice. As you like it. Taming of the shrew. All's well that ends well. Twelfth night, or What you will. Winter's tale. King JohnG. Routledge, 1889 |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 79
Página 3
... souls ! they perish'd , Had I been any god of power , I would Have sunk the sea within the earth , or e'er It should ... soul- No , not so much perdition as an hair , Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry , which ...
... souls ! they perish'd , Had I been any god of power , I would Have sunk the sea within the earth , or e'er It should ... soul- No , not so much perdition as an hair , Betid to any creature in the vessel Which thou heard'st cry , which ...
Página 7
... soul Ari . But felt a fever of the mad , and play'd Some tricks of desperation : All but mariners Plung'd in the foaming brine , and quit the vessel , Then all a - fire with me : the king's son , Ferdinand , With hair up - staring ...
... soul Ari . But felt a fever of the mad , and play'd Some tricks of desperation : All but mariners Plung'd in the foaming brine , and quit the vessel , Then all a - fire with me : the king's son , Ferdinand , With hair up - staring ...
Página 12
... soul prompts it : -Spirit , fine spirit ! I'll free thee Within two days for this . Most sure , the goddess Fer . On whom these airs attend ! -Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this island ; And that you will some good ...
... soul prompts it : -Spirit , fine spirit ! I'll free thee Within two days for this . Most sure , the goddess Fer . On whom these airs attend ! -Vouchsafe my prayer May know if you remain upon this island ; And that you will some good ...
Página 17
... soul herself Weigh'd , between lothness and obedience , at Which end o ' the beam she'd bow . We have lost your son , I fear , for ever : Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business ' making , Than we bring men to comfort ...
... soul herself Weigh'd , between lothness and obedience , at Which end o ' the beam she'd bow . We have lost your son , I fear , for ever : Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business ' making , Than we bring men to comfort ...
Página 26
... soul , but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd , And put it to the foil : But you , O you , So perfect , and so peerless , are created Of every creature's best . I do not know Mira . One of my sex ; no woman's ...
... soul , but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd , And put it to the foil : But you , O you , So perfect , and so peerless , are created Of every creature's best . I do not know Mira . One of my sex ; no woman's ...
Términos y frases comunes
Angelo art thou Bast Beat Benedick better Biron blood Boyet brother Caius Claud Claudio COSTARD daughter dear death dost thou doth ducats Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father Faulconbridge fear fool Ford gentle gentleman give grace Gremio hand hath hear heart heaven Hermia hither honour husband Illyria Isab John Kath King knave lady Laun Leon Leonato look lord Lucio Lysander madam maid Malvolio marry master master doctor mistress Moth never night pardon Pedro Pompey pray prince prithee Proteus Puck Re-enter Rosalind SCENE servant Shylock signior Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK soul speak Speed swear sweet tell thank thee there's Theseus thine thou art thou hast thou shalt Thurio tongue Tranio troth true unto villain What's wife woman word
Pasajes populares
Página 793 - O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. — 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 464 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we not the penalty of Adam. The seasons' difference, — as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body. Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 'This is no flattery' — these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.