The Plays of William Shakespeare: With Notes of Various Commentators, Volym 10G. Kearsley [Printed, 1806 |
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Sida 7
... Pain . I am glad you are well . Poet . I have not seen you long ; How goes the world ? Pain . It wears , sir , as it grows . Poet . Ay , that's well known : But what particular rarity ? what strange , Which manifold record not matches ...
... Pain . I am glad you are well . Poet . I have not seen you long ; How goes the world ? Pain . It wears , sir , as it grows . Poet . Ay , that's well known : But what particular rarity ? what strange , Which manifold record not matches ...
Sida 8
... Pain . A picture , sir . - And when comes your book forth ? Poet . Upon the heels of my presentment , sir . Let's see your piece . Pain . ' Tis a good piece . Poet . So ' tis : this comes off well and excellent . Pain . Indifferent ...
... Pain . A picture , sir . - And when comes your book forth ? Poet . Upon the heels of my presentment , sir . Let's see your piece . Pain . ' Tis a good piece . Poet . So ' tis : this comes off well and excellent . Pain . Indifferent ...
Sida 9
... Pain . It is a pretty mocking of the life . Here is a touch ; Is't good ? Poet . I'll say of it , It tutors nature : artificial strife Lives in these touches , livelier than life . Enter certain Senators , and pass over . Pain . How ...
... Pain . It is a pretty mocking of the life . Here is a touch ; Is't good ? Poet . I'll say of it , It tutors nature : artificial strife Lives in these touches , livelier than life . Enter certain Senators , and pass over . Pain . How ...
Sida 10
... Pain . I saw them speak together . Poet . Sir , I have upon a high and pleasant hill , Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd : The base o'the mount Is rank'd with all deserts , all kind of natures , That labour on the bosom of this sphere To ...
... Pain . I saw them speak together . Poet . Sir , I have upon a high and pleasant hill , Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd : The base o'the mount Is rank'd with all deserts , all kind of natures , That labour on the bosom of this sphere To ...
Sida 11
... Pain . ' Tis common : A thousand moral paintings I can show , That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune More pregnantly than words . Yet you do well , To show lord Timon , that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head . 1 ...
... Pain . ' Tis common : A thousand moral paintings I can show , That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune More pregnantly than words . Yet you do well , To show lord Timon , that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head . 1 ...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare: With Notes of Various Commentators, Utgåva 10 William Shakespeare Fragmentarisk förhandsgranskning - 1806 |
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Aaron Alcib Alcibiades Antiochus Apem Apemantus Athens Bassianus Bawd blood Boult brother CHIRON Cleon daughter dead death deed DEMETRIUS Dionyza dost thou doth emperor empress Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes father fear feast Fish Flav fool fortune friends give gods gold Goths Gower grief hand hath hear heart heaven Helicanus hither honest honour JOHNSON king knight lady Lavinia live look lord Timon lordship Lucius Lucullus Lychorida Lysimachus Marcus Marina mistress Mitylene musick ne'er never noble Pain Pentapolis Pericles Phrynia Poet pray prince PRINCE OF TYRE queen revenge Rome Rome's Saturninus SCENE Senators Serv Servant Shakspeare Simonides sons sorrow speak STEEVENS sweet Tamora tears tell Thai Thaisa Tharsus thee There's thine thou art thou hast thyself TIMON OF ATHENS TITUS ANDRONICUS tongue tribune Tyre unto villain weep would'st
Populära avsnitt
Sida 71 - Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant. Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed, Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves And give them title, knee and approbation With senators on the bench...
Sida 87 - The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen From general excrement : each thing's a thief ; The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheck'd theft.
Sida 101 - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.