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 76.
Pàgina 45
... could not read , thought he had mock'd her , and fays , No , fure , I know better : our Dog's name is R. Yours begins with another Letter . This is natural enough , and very much- in Character for this infipid prating Creature .
... could not read , thought he had mock'd her , and fays , No , fure , I know better : our Dog's name is R. Yours begins with another Letter . This is natural enough , and very much- in Character for this infipid prating Creature .
Pàgina 46
Perchance , fhe cannot meet him - That's not fo- Oh , she is lame : love's heralds fhould be thoughts , Which ten times fafter glide than the fun - beams , Driving back fhadows over lowring hills . Therefore do nimble - pinion'd doves ...
Perchance , fhe cannot meet him - That's not fo- Oh , she is lame : love's heralds fhould be thoughts , Which ten times fafter glide than the fun - beams , Driving back fhadows over lowring hills . Therefore do nimble - pinion'd doves ...
Pàgina 52
I thought all for the beft . Mer . Help me into fome house , Benvolio , Or I fhall faint ; a plague o ' both your houses ! They have made worms - meat of me , I have it , and foundly too . Plague o ' your houses ! [ Exeunt Mer . Ben .
I thought all for the beft . Mer . Help me into fome house , Benvolio , Or I fhall faint ; a plague o ' both your houses ! They have made worms - meat of me , I have it , and foundly too . Plague o ' your houses ! [ Exeunt Mer . Ben .
Pàgina 57
Who ever would have thought it , Romeo ? Jul . What devil art thou , that doft torment me thus ? This torture fhould be roar'd in dismal hell . Hath Romeo flain himself ? fay thou but , I ; And that bare vowel , I , fhall poifon more ...
Who ever would have thought it , Romeo ? Jul . What devil art thou , that doft torment me thus ? This torture fhould be roar'd in dismal hell . Hath Romeo flain himself ? fay thou but , I ; And that bare vowel , I , fhall poifon more ...
Pàgina 63
By my holy order , I thought thy difpofition better temper'd . Haft thou flain Tybalt ? wilt thou lay thyself ? And flay thy lady , that in thy life lives , By doing damned hate upon thyfelf ? Why rail'ft thou on thy birth , the heav'n ...
By my holy order , I thought thy difpofition better temper'd . Haft thou flain Tybalt ? wilt thou lay thyself ? And flay thy lady , that in thy life lives , By doing damned hate upon thyfelf ? Why rail'ft thou on thy birth , the heav'n ...
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 Oldest Copies ... William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1740 |
The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes ; Collated with the ..., Volum 8 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1740 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
bear blood bring Caffio Capulet changes Clown comes daughter dead dear death doft doth Duke Emil Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall fame Farewel father fear feem fhall fhew fhould follow fome foul fpeak ftand fuch fweet give gone Hamlet hand hath head hear heart heav'n hold I'll Iago Juliet keep King lady Laer Laertes leave letter light live look Lord marry matter means moft Moor moſt mother muft murder nature never night noble Nurfe Othello play poor pray Prince Printed Quarto Queen Romeo SCENE ſpeak tell thee thefe there's theſe thing thou thou art thought true Tybalt villain watch whofe 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.
Informació bibliogràfica
| Títol | The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes : Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected, with Notes, Explanatory, and Critical, Volum 8 The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes : Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected, with Notes, Explanatory, and Critical, William Shakespeare |
| Autor | William Shakespeare |
| Editor | C. 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 |
| Original de | Biblioteca Pública de Nova York |
| Digitalitzat el | 29 Des. 2006 |
| Exporta citacions | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |