The Works of William Shakespeare, Volum 2Little, Brown, 1872 |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Works of William Shakespeare: The Plays Edited from the ..., Volums 11-12 William Shakespeare,Richard Grant White Visualització completa - 1889 |
The Works of William Shakespeare: The Plays Ed. from the Folio ..., Volums 11-12 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1889 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
actor appears ARIEL Augustine Phillips Ben Jonson Burbadge Caius Caliban Collier Collier's folio comedy dost doth Duke edition editors Enter Exeunt Exit Fairy Falstaff father Fenton gentlemen Gentlemen of Verona give hath hear Heaven Henry Henry Condell Henry IV Herne the hunter Host humour Jonson's Julia King King's company knave knight Launce lord Madam Malone Marry Master Brook Master Doctor Merry Wives Milan Mira Mistress Anne Mistress Ford monster original passage Pist play pray Prospero Proteus quarto Quick RUGBY SCENE servant Shakespeare Shal Shallow shalt Silvia Sir Hugh Sir John Sir John Falstaff Slen speak Speed Stephano sweet Sycorax tell Tempest thee there's thou art Thurio Trin Trinculo Valentine Verona wife William Shakespeare Windsor Wives of Windsor woman word
Passatges populars
Pàgina lxii - WHAT needs my Shakespeare, for his honour'd bones, The labour of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
Pàgina 159 - Who is Silvia? What is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness. Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling. To her let us garlands bring.
Pàgina 24 - And show'd thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile. Cursed be I that did so ! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you ! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king ; and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o' th
Pàgina 25 - You taught me language; and my profit on't Is, I know how to curse : The red plague rid you, For learning me your language ! Pro.
Pàgina 73 - And mine shall. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, One of their kind, that relish all as sharply Passion as they, be kindlier...
Pàgina 25 - would it had been done ! Thou didst prevent me ; I had peopled else This isle with Calibans. Pro. Abhorred slave ! Which any print of goodness will not take, Being capable of all ill ! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other : when thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes With words that made them known...
Pàgina 61 - O, it is monstrous! monstrous! Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me; and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd The name of Prosper; it did bass my trespass. Therefore my son i" the ooze is bedded ; and I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded, And with him there lie mudded.
Pàgina 84 - tis, true, I must be here confin'd by you, Or sent to Naples. Let me not, Since I have my dukedom got, And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell In this bare island, by your spell ; But release me from my bands, With the help of your good hands.
Pàgina 74 - The charm dissolves apace ; And as the morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness, so their rising senses Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle Their clearer reason.
Pàgina 12 - If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them : The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out.