The Works of Shakespeare: in Eight Volumes, Volumen8 |
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Página 11
I , measuring his affections by my own , ( That most are bufied when they're most alone ) Purfued my humour , not purfuing him ; ( 3 ) And gladly fhun'd , who gladly fled from me . Mon. Many a morning hath he there been feen With tears ...
I , measuring his affections by my own , ( That most are bufied when they're most alone ) Purfued my humour , not purfuing him ; ( 3 ) And gladly fhun'd , who gladly fled from me . Mon. Many a morning hath he there been feen With tears ...
Página 13
Love is a fmoke rais'd with the fume of fighs , Being purg'd , a fire fparkling in lovers ' eyes ; Being vext , a fea nourish'd with lovers ' tears ; What is it elfe ? a madness most discreet , A choaking gall , and a preserving sweet ...
Love is a fmoke rais'd with the fume of fighs , Being purg'd , a fire fparkling in lovers ' eyes ; Being vext , a fea nourish'd with lovers ' tears ; What is it elfe ? a madness most discreet , A choaking gall , and a preserving sweet ...
Página 15
... choice Lies my confent , and fair according voice : This night , I hold an old - accuftom'd feast , Whereto I have invited many a guest , Such as I love ; and you , among the ftore , One more , most welcome , makes my number more .
... choice Lies my confent , and fair according voice : This night , I hold an old - accuftom'd feast , Whereto I have invited many a guest , Such as I love ; and you , among the ftore , One more , most welcome , makes my number more .
Página 42
A most courteous expofition . Mer . Nay , I am the very pink of courtefy . Rom . Pink for flower.- Mer . Right . Rom . Why , then is my pump well flower'd . Mer . Sure wit - follow me this jeft , now , till thou haft worn out thy pump ...
A most courteous expofition . Mer . Nay , I am the very pink of courtefy . Rom . Pink for flower.- Mer . Right . Rom . Why , then is my pump well flower'd . Mer . Sure wit - follow me this jeft , now , till thou haft worn out thy pump ...
Página 83
Most miserable hour , that Time e'er faw In lafting labour of his pilgrimage ! But one , poor one , one poor and loving child , But one thing to rejoice and folace in , And cruel death hath catch'd it from my fight . Nurfe .
Most miserable hour , that Time e'er faw In lafting labour of his pilgrimage ! But one , poor one , one poor and loving child , But one thing to rejoice and folace in , And cruel death hath catch'd it from my fight . Nurfe .
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Términos y frases comunes
Author bear beauty blood Caffio Capulet Clown comes dead dear death doth Duke earth Emil Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall fame father fear feems fenfe fhall fhould follow fome foul fpeak ftand fuch give gone Hamlet hand hath head hear heart heav'n Henry hold honour I'll Iago Juliet keep King lady Laer lago leave letter light live look Lord marry matter means mind moft Moor moſt mother muft muſt nature never night noble Nurfe once Othello play Poet poor pray Printed Queen Romeo SCENE Shakespeare ſhall ſpeak tell thee thefe theſe thing thou thought true villain whofe wife young
Pasajes populares
Página 237 - tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all : Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows, what is't to leave betimes ?
Página 23 - Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Página 129 - I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres...
Página 183 - Tis now the very witching time of night When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Página 191 - Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? You cannot call it love, for at your age The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment Would step from this to this?
Página 227 - I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come ; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i
Página 166 - As made the things more rich; their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
Página 267 - Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself.
Página 37 - Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.
Página 32 - Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul.
Información bibliográfica
| Título | The Works of Shakespeare: in Eight Volumes, Volumen8 The Works of Shakespeare: in Eight Volumes, William Shakespeare |
| Autor | William Shakespeare |
| Editor | Mr. Theobald (Lewis) |
| Editor | H. Woodfall, 1767 |
| Procedencia del original | Biblioteca Pública de Nueva York |
| Digitalizado | 4 Ene. 2007 |
| Exportar cita | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |