The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes : Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected, with Notes, Explanatory, and Critical, Volum 8C. Hitch and L. Hawes, J. and R. Tonson, B. Dod, G. Woodfall, J. Rivington, R. Baldwin, T. Longman, S. Crowder and Company, W. Johnson, C. Corbet, T. Lownds, and T. Caslon, 1762 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 5.
Pàgina 261
Iago . Nay , it is true , or else I am a Turk ; You rise to play , and go to bed to work .
Æmil . You shall not write my praise . lago . No , let me not . Def . What wouldft
thou write of me , if thou shou'dft praise me ? Iago . Oh gentle lady , do not put me
...
Iago . Nay , it is true , or else I am a Turk ; You rise to play , and go to bed to work .
Æmil . You shall not write my praise . lago . No , let me not . Def . What wouldft
thou write of me , if thou shou'dft praise me ? Iago . Oh gentle lady , do not put me
...
Pàgina 271
Iago . Why , he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk . He sweats not to
overthrow your Almain . He gives your Hollander a vomit , ere the next pottle can
be fill ' ,. Caf . To the health of our General . Mon. I am for it , lieutenant , and I'll do
...
Iago . Why , he drinks you with facility your Dane dead drunk . He sweats not to
overthrow your Almain . He gives your Hollander a vomit , ere the next pottle can
be fill ' ,. Caf . To the health of our General . Mon. I am for it , lieutenant , and I'll do
...
Pàgina 309
Iago . Yours , by this hand : and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife
- She gave it him , and he hath given it his whore , Oth . I would have him nine
years a killing : A fine woman ! a fair woman ! a sweet woman ! lago . Nay , you ...
Iago . Yours , by this hand : and to see how he prizes the foolish woman your wife
- She gave it him , and he hath given it his whore , Oth . I would have him nine
years a killing : A fine woman ! a fair woman ! a sweet woman ! lago . Nay , you ...
Pàgina 325
بها في الان Enter Iago , in his shirt , with a Light and Sword . Lod . Hark Gr . Here's
one comes in hisshirt with light andweapons . Iago . Who's there ? whose noise is
this , that cries out murder ? Lod . We do not know . Iago . Do not you hear a ...
بها في الان Enter Iago , in his shirt , with a Light and Sword . Lod . Hark Gr . Here's
one comes in hisshirt with light andweapons . Iago . Who's there ? whose noise is
this , that cries out murder ? Lod . We do not know . Iago . Do not you hear a ...
Pàgina 326
Iago . How is't , brother ? Caf . My leg is cut in two . lago . Marry , heav'n forbid !
Light , gentlemen , I'll bind it with my thirt . Enter Bianca . Bian . What is the matter
, hoa , who is't that cry'd ? Iago . Who is't that cry'd ? Bian . Oh my dear Callio ...
Iago . How is't , brother ? Caf . My leg is cut in two . lago . Marry , heav'n forbid !
Light , gentlemen , I'll bind it with my thirt . Enter Bianca . Bian . What is the matter
, hoa , who is't that cry'd ? Iago . Who is't that cry'd ? Bian . Oh my dear Callio ...
Què en diuen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya
No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes ; Collated with the ..., Volum 6 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1740 |
The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes : Collated with the ..., Volum 5 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1762 |
The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes ; Collated with the ..., Volum 7 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1757 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Æmil againſt bear blood Caffio Capulet changes Clown comes daughter dead dear death Deſdemona doth Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall Farewel father fear firſt follow foul give gone Hamlet hand hath head hear heart heav'n himſelf hold houſe huſband I'll Iago Juliet keep King lady Laer lago leave letter light live look Lord marry matter means Moor moſt mother murder muſt nature never night noble Nurſe Othello play poor pray Prince Printed Queen Romeo ſay SCENE ſee ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſoul ſpeak ſtand ſuch ſweet tell thee there's theſe thing thoſe thou thou art thought true uſe villain watch whoſe wife young
Passatges populars
Pàgina 32 - What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O! be some other name: What's in a name?
Pàgina 190 - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
Pàgina 251 - That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord : I saw Othello's visage in his mind ; And to his honours, and his valiant parts, Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
Pàgina 210 - 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
Pàgina 114 - ... uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married.
Pàgina 175 - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law. But 'tis not...
Pàgina 160 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Pàgina 120 - Are most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
Pàgina 66 - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Pàgina 36 - 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.