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 6.
Pàgina 34
... And therefore thou may't think my ' haviour light : But trust me , Gentleman , I'll
prove more true , * Than thofe that have ... But that thou over - heardt , ere I was '
ware , My true love's paflion ; therefore pardon me , And not impute this yielding ...
... And therefore thou may't think my ' haviour light : But trust me , Gentleman , I'll
prove more true , * Than thofe that have ... But that thou over - heardt , ere I was '
ware , My true love's paflion ; therefore pardon me , And not impute this yielding ...
Pàgina 37
Nor nought so vile , that on the earth doth live , But to the earth some special
good doth give : Nor aught fo good , but , itrain'd from that fair use , Revolts from
true birth , stumbling on abuse . Virtue itself turns vice , being misapplied ; And
vice ...
Nor nought so vile , that on the earth doth live , But to the earth some special
good doth give : Nor aught fo good , but , itrain'd from that fair use , Revolts from
true birth , stumbling on abuse . Virtue itself turns vice , being misapplied ; And
vice ...
Pàgina 93
Thou desp'rate pilot , now at once run on The dashing rocks my sea - sick , weary
, bark : Here's to my love ! oh , true apothecary ! [ Drinks the poison . Thy drugs
are quick . Thus with a kiss I die . [ Dies , ( 16 ) And never from this Palace of dim
...
Thou desp'rate pilot , now at once run on The dashing rocks my sea - sick , weary
, bark : Here's to my love ! oh , true apothecary ! [ Drinks the poison . Thy drugs
are quick . Thus with a kiss I die . [ Dies , ( 16 ) And never from this Palace of dim
...
Pàgina 140
Madam , I swear , I use no art at all : That he is mad , ' tis true ; ' tis true , ' tis pity ;
And pity ' tis , ' tis true ; a foolish figure , But farewel it ; for I will use no art . Mad let
us grant him then ; and now remains That we find out the cause of this effect ...
Madam , I swear , I use no art at all : That he is mad , ' tis true ; ' tis true , ' tis pity ;
And pity ' tis , ' tis true ; a foolish figure , But farewel it ; for I will use no art . Mad let
us grant him then ; and now remains That we find out the cause of this effect ...
Pàgina 192
Oph . How should I your true love know from another one ? By his cockle hai and
faff , and his fendal phoon . [ Singing Queen . Alas , sweet lady ; what imports this
song ? Opb . Say you ? nay , pray you , mark . He's dead and gone , lady , be is ...
Oph . How should I your true love know from another one ? By his cockle hai and
faff , and his fendal phoon . [ Singing Queen . Alas , sweet lady ; what imports this
song ? Opb . Say you ? nay , pray you , mark . He's dead and gone , lady , be is ...
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.