The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts, Volum 4Jacob Tonson, 1709 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 100.
Pàgina 1537
In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts William Shakespeare. Third Part OF King HENRY VI , With the Death of the DUKE of YORK . Printed in the YEAR 1709 . K ING Henry VI . Edward , Son to the THE.
In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts William Shakespeare. Third Part OF King HENRY VI , With the Death of the DUKE of YORK . Printed in the YEAR 1709 . K ING Henry VI . Edward , Son to the THE.
Pàgina 1542
... Death , before I ftir . War . Poor Clifford ! how I scorn his worthless Threats . York . Will you , we shew our Title to the Crown ? If not , our Swords shall plead it in the Field . K. Henry . What Title haft thou , Traitor , to the ...
... Death , before I ftir . War . Poor Clifford ! how I scorn his worthless Threats . York . Will you , we shew our Title to the Crown ? If not , our Swords shall plead it in the Field . K. Henry . What Title haft thou , Traitor , to the ...
Pàgina 1549
... Death : To thee , I pray fweet Clifford , pity me . Clif . Such pity as my Rapier's point affords . Rut . I never did thee harm ; why wilt thou slay me ? Clif . Thy Father hath . Rut . But ' twas e'er I was born . Thou hast one Son ...
... Death : To thee , I pray fweet Clifford , pity me . Clif . Such pity as my Rapier's point affords . Rut . I never did thee harm ; why wilt thou slay me ? Clif . Thy Father hath . Rut . But ' twas e'er I was born . Thou hast one Son ...
Pàgina 1552
... Death , I give thee this to dry thy Cheeks withal . Alas , poor York , but that I hate thee deadly , I thould lament thy miferable State . I prithee grieve , to make me merry , York . What , hath thy fiery Heart so parcht thine Intrails ...
... Death , I give thee this to dry thy Cheeks withal . Alas , poor York , but that I hate thee deadly , I thould lament thy miferable State . I prithee grieve , to make me merry , York . What , hath thy fiery Heart so parcht thine Intrails ...
Pàgina 1553
... Death . ' Tis Beauty that doth oft make Women proud ; But God he knows , thy share thereof is small . ' Tis Virtue that doth make them most admir'd . The contrary doth make thee wondred at . ' Tis Government that makes them seem Divine ...
... Death . ' Tis Beauty that doth oft make Women proud ; But God he knows , thy share thereof is small . ' Tis Virtue that doth make them most admir'd . The contrary doth make thee wondred at . ' Tis Government that makes them seem Divine ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Eight Volumes. Adorn'd with Cutts William Shakespeare,Nicholas Rowe Visualització completa - 1714 |
The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts, Volum 4 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1709 |
The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Eight Volumes. Adorn'd ..., Volum 4 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1714 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Achilles Agamemnon Ajax Andronicus anſwer beſt Blood Brother Buck Buckingham Buſineſs Cauſe Clar Clarence Cominius Coriolanus Curſe Death defire Diomede doſt doth Duke Duke of York e'er Edward elſe Enter Exeunt Exit Eyes falſe Farewel Father fear felf firſt flain Friends fuch give Goths Grace Hand Hastings hath hear Heart Heav'n Hector Henry Honour Horſe Houſe i'th King Lady laſt Lavinia leſs Lord Lord Chamberlain loſe Love Lucius Madam Martius Maſter morrow moſt muſt Noble o'th Pandarus Patroclus Peace pleaſe pleaſure pray preſent Prince Queen reſt Rich Rome ſay ſee ſelf ſet ſhall ſhe ſhew ſhould ſome Soul ſpeak ſtand ſtay ſtill ſtrong ſuch ſwear ſweet Sword Tears tell thee Ther theſe thine thoſe thou art Titus Troi Troilus unto uſe Warwick whoſe York
Passatges populars
Pàgina 1630 - I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing ! Ha!
Pàgina 1777 - Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou...
Pàgina 1824 - And posts, like the commandment of a king, Sans check to good and bad : but when the planets In evil mixture to disorder wander, What plagues, and what portents, what mutiny, What raging of the sea, shaking of earth, Commotion in the winds, frights, changes, horrors, Divert and crack, rend and deracinate The unity and married calm of states Quite from their fixure ! O ! when degree is shak'd, Which is the ladder to all high designs, The enterprise is sick.
Pàgina 1784 - After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honour from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Pàgina 1777 - Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not ; Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Pàgina 1783 - From his cradle He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer...
Pàgina 1567 - So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will...
Pàgina 1998 - Volsces ; men and lads, Stain all your edges on me. — Boy ! False hound ! If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there, That, like an eagle in a dovecote, I Flutter'd your Volscians in Corioli : Alone I did it. — Boy ! Auf.
Pàgina 1749 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.
Pàgina 1620 - And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace...