The Plays of William Shakspeare: In Fifteen Volumes. With the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators. To which are Added NotesT. Longman, 1793 |
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Sida 7
... eyes of France ; For ere thou canft report I will be there , The thunder of my cannon fhall be heard : " Mark hym that fhowes ye Tragedies , Thyne owne famylyar frende , " By whom y Spaniard's hawty ftyle " In Englyfh verfe is pende ...
... eyes of France ; For ere thou canft report I will be there , The thunder of my cannon fhall be heard : " Mark hym that fhowes ye Tragedies , Thyne owne famylyar frende , " By whom y Spaniard's hawty ftyle " In Englyfh verfe is pende ...
Sida 11
... eye , her leer . " The following paffage in Ben Jonfon's Every Man out of his Humour , proves the phrafe to be borrowed from delineation : You can blazon the reft , Signior ? 66 " O ay , I have it in writing here o'purpofe ; it coft me ...
... eye , her leer . " The following paffage in Ben Jonfon's Every Man out of his Humour , proves the phrafe to be borrowed from delineation : You can blazon the reft , Signior ? 66 " O ay , I have it in writing here o'purpofe ; it coft me ...
Sida 12
... eye hath well examined his parts , And finds them perfect Richard . — Sirrah , fpeak , What doth move you to claim your brother's land ? BAST . Because he hath a half - face , like my father ; With that half - face would he have all my ...
... eye hath well examined his parts , And finds them perfect Richard . — Sirrah , fpeak , What doth move you to claim your brother's land ? BAST . Because he hath a half - face , like my father ; With that half - face would he have all my ...
Sida 22
... eyes for prefenting me with this fight ! O Signior , the ftar that governs my life in contentment , give me leave to interre myself in your arms ! -Not fo , fir , it is too unworthy an inclosure to contain fuch pre- ciousness , & c ...
... eyes for prefenting me with this fight ! O Signior , the ftar that governs my life in contentment , give me leave to interre myself in your arms ! -Not fo , fir , it is too unworthy an inclosure to contain fuch pre- ciousness , & c ...
Sida 34
... eyes , these brows , were moulded out of his : This little abftract doth contain that large , Which died in Geffrey ; and the hand of time Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume . That Geffrey was thy elder brother born , And this ...
... eyes , these brows , were moulded out of his : This little abftract doth contain that large , Which died in Geffrey ; and the hand of time Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume . That Geffrey was thy elder brother born , And this ...
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The Plays of William Shakspeare: In Fifteen Volumes. With the Corrections ... William Shakespeare Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1793 |
The Plays of William Shakspeare: In Fifteen Volumes. With the Corrections ... William Shakespeare Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1793 |
The Plays of William Shakspeare: In Fifteen Volumes. With the Corrections ... William Shakespeare Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1793 |
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againſt alfo Aumerle Baftard BAST becauſe blood BOLING Bolingbroke called coufin death doft doth Duke Duke of Hereford duke of Norfolk Earl England Engliſh Exeunt expreffion fack faid Falſtaff fame Faulconbridge fays fcene fecond feems fenfe fhall fhould fignifies fince firft firſt folio fome forrow foul fpeak fpeech ftand ftate ftill fubject fuch fuppofe fweet Gaunt grief hath heaven Henry VI himſelf honour itſelf John of Gaunt JOHNSON King Henry King John King Richard KING RICHARD II lady laft loft lord majefty MALONE means Merick Mortimer moſt muft muſt myſelf night obferves old copies old play paffage Percy perfon POINS Pope prefent prince purpoſe quarto Queen Rape of Lucrece reafon RICH ſay Shakspeare ſhall Sir John Sir John Oldcastle ſpeak STEEVENS thee thefe THEOBALD theſe thofe thoſe thou art thouſand ufed uſed WARBURTON whofe word
Populära avsnitt
Sida 462 - 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.
Sida 110 - 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 ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Sida 124 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Sida 359 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks ; So he that doth redeem her thence might wear Without corrival all her dignities : But out upon this half-faced fellowship ! Wor.
Sida 520 - 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
Sida 74 - As for that night, let darkness seize upon it; let it not be joined unto the days of the year, let it not come into the number of the months.
Sida 504 - Tut, tut ! good enough to toss ; food for powder, food for powder ; they'll fill a pit, as well as better ; tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
Sida 236 - 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...
Sida 315 - To chase these pagans in those holy fields Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd For our advantage on the bitter cross.
Sida 345 - But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly...