The Works of William Shakespeare: The taming of the shrew. All's well that ends well. Twelfth night. The winter's taleMacmillan, 1891 |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
“The” Works of William Shakespeare: The taming of the shrew. All's well that ... William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1904 |
“The” Works of William Shakespeare: The taming of the shrew. All's well that ... William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1863 |
The Works of William Shakespeare: The taming of the shrew. All's well that ... William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1863 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Anon Autolycus Baptista Becket conj Bianca Bion Biondello Bohemia Bulloch conj Camillo Capell conj Cleomenes Count Daniel conj daughter Duke Dyce Enter Exeunt Exit F₁ F₁F2 F₁Q father Ff Q Folio fool Gent gentleman Gould conj Grant White Gremio Hanmer hast hath Heath conj honour Hortensio Hudson Illyria Jackson conj Johnson conj Kate Kath Katharina Keightley conj King Kinnear conj knave lady Leon Lettsom conj lines in Ff lord Lucentio madam Malone conj Malvolio marry master mistress Olivia Padua Petruchio Pope pray prithee prose in Ff Rann Re-enter reading Rousillon Rowe Rowe ed SCENE SCENE II Shep Sicilia Signior Sir Toby sirrah speak Staunton conj sweet tell thee Theobald conj there's thine thou art Tranio Walker conj Warburton wife
Passatges populars
Pàgina 118 - Such duty as the subject owes the prince Even such a woman oweth to her husband ; And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour, And not obedient to his honest will. What is she but a foul contending rebel And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
Pàgina 454 - 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.
Pàgina 267 - If music be the food of love, play on. Give me excess of it ; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ; — it had a dying fall ( O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour.
Pàgina 438 - I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting— Hark you now!
Pàgina 138 - Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
Pàgina 455 - O Proserpina, For the flowers now that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength — a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one!
Pàgina 305 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress' let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save. Lay me. O. where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there!
Pàgina 221 - 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.
Pàgina 307 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat, like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.