The works of Shakespear [ed. by H. Blair], in which the beauties observed by Pope, Warburton and Dodd are pointed out, together with the author's life; a glossary [&c.]. |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 49.
Pàgina 13
... face with fome that I fhall fhow , And I will make thee think thy fwan a crow . Rom . When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains fuch falsehoods , then turn tears to fires ! And there who , often drown'd , could never die ...
... face with fome that I fhall fhow , And I will make thee think thy fwan a crow . Rom . When the devout religion of mine eye Maintains fuch falsehoods , then turn tears to fires ! And there who , often drown'd , could never die ...
Pàgina 14
... face ; thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit , wilt thou not , Julé ? and by my holy dam , the pretty wretch left crying , and faid Ay . To fee now how a jest shall come about . - I warrant , an ' I fhould live a thou- • fand ...
... face ; thou wilt fall backward when thou haft more wit , wilt thou not , Julé ? and by my holy dam , the pretty wretch left crying , and faid Ay . To fee now how a jest shall come about . - I warrant , an ' I fhould live a thou- • fand ...
Pàgina 15
... face , And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ; Examine ev'ry fev'ral lineament , And fee how one another lends content : And what obfcur'd in this fair volume lies , Find written in the margin of his eyes . This precious book of ...
... face , And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ; Examine ev'ry fev'ral lineament , And fee how one another lends content : And what obfcur'd in this fair volume lies , Find written in the margin of his eyes . This precious book of ...
Pàgina 18
... face to the dew - dropping fouth . Ben . This wind you talk of , blows us from our felves ; Supper is done , and we fhall come too late . Rom . I fear too early ; for my mind mifgives , Some confequence , yet hanging in the ftars ...
... face to the dew - dropping fouth . Ben . This wind you talk of , blows us from our felves ; Supper is done , and we fhall come too late . Rom . I fear too early ; for my mind mifgives , Some confequence , yet hanging in the ftars ...
Pàgina 20
... face , To fleer and fcorn at our folemnity ? Now , by the stock and honour of my kin , To ftrike him dead I hold it not a fin . Cap . Why , how now , kinfman , wherefore storm you fo ? Tyb . Uncle , this is a Montague , our foe : A ...
... face , To fleer and fcorn at our folemnity ? Now , by the stock and honour of my kin , To ftrike him dead I hold it not a fin . Cap . Why , how now , kinfman , wherefore storm you fo ? Tyb . Uncle , this is a Montague , our foe : A ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The works of Shakespear [ed. by H. Blair], in which the beauties observed by ... William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1769 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
againſt art thou Benvolio Brabantio Caffio Capulet Clown Cyprus dead death defcribed Defdemona doft doth Duke elfe Emil Enter Exeunt Exit eyes faid fame Farewel father fear feem feen fenfe fhall fhew fhould flain fleep foliloquy fome forrow Fortinbras foul fpeak fpeech fpirit Friar Friar Lawrence ftand ftill fuch fure fweet fword Gentlemen give Hamlet hath hear heart heav'n himſelf honeft Horatio huſband Iago is't itſelf Juliet King Lady Laer Laertes lago Lord Madam marry Mercutio moft moſt muft murther muſt myſelf night Nurfe nurſe Ophelia Othello perfon Polonius pray prifoner Prince Queen Richard III Rodorigo Romeo SCENE ſhall ſpeak tell thee thefe theſe thing thofe thou art to-night Tybalt uſed viii villain whofe wife word yourſelf
Passatges populars
Pàgina 147 - Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eyes ? You cannot call it love, for at your age The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment ; and what judgment Would step from this to this ? Sense, sure, you have.
Pàgina 133 - No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning.
Pàgina 27 - Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night — See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand ! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul.
Pàgina 105 - Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there, And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain, Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven!
Pàgina 177 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
Pàgina 29 - Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be Ere one can say 'It lightens.
Pàgina 157 - ... and my blood, And let all sleep, while to my shame I see The imminent death of twenty thousand men, That for a fantasy and trick of fame Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, Which is not tomb enough and continent To hide the slain ? O, from this time forth, My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth ! \Exit.
Pàgina 119 - ... this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Pàgina 177 - Dost thou come here to whine ? To outface me with leaping in her grave ? Be buried quick with her, and so will I : And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw Millions of acres on us, till our ground, Singeing his pate against the burning zone, Make Ossa like a wart ! Nay, an thou'lt mouth, I'll rant as well as thou.
Pàgina 125 - I'll leave you till night; you are welcome to Elsinore. Ros. Good my lord ! [Exeunt Rosencrantz and Giiildenstern. Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' ye :—Now I am alone. O, what a rogue and 'peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit...