The Plays of William Shakespeare : Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copy Left by the Late George Steevens: With a Series of Engravings, from Original Designs of Henry Fuseli, and a Selection of Explanatory and Historical Notes, from the Most Eminent Commentators; a History of the Stage, a Life of Shakespeare, &c. by Alexander Chalmers, Volumul 5F.C. and J. Rivington, 1805 |
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Pagina 43
... villain , for thy life . Bast . And hang a calf's - skin on those recreant limbs . K. John . We like not this ; thou dost forget thy- self . Enter PANDULPH . K. Phi . Here comes the holy legate of the pope . Pand . Hail , you anointed ...
... villain , for thy life . Bast . And hang a calf's - skin on those recreant limbs . K. John . We like not this ; thou dost forget thy- self . Enter PANDULPH . K. Phi . Here comes the holy legate of the pope . Pand . Hail , you anointed ...
Pagina 79
... villain , get thee gone ! Hub . I am no villain . Sal . Must I rob the law ? [ Drawing his sword . Bast . Your sword is bright , sir ; put it up again . Sal . Not till I sheath it in a murderer's skin . Hub . Stand back , lord Salisbury ...
... villain , get thee gone ! Hub . I am no villain . Sal . Must I rob the law ? [ Drawing his sword . Bast . Your sword is bright , sir ; put it up again . Sal . Not till I sheath it in a murderer's skin . Hub . Stand back , lord Salisbury ...
Pagina 80
... villain , and a murderer ? Hub . Lord Bigot , I am none . Big . Who kill'd this prince ! Hub . ' Tis not an hour since I left him well : I honour'd him , I lov'd him ; and will weep My date of life out , for his sweet life's loss . Sal ...
... villain , and a murderer ? Hub . Lord Bigot , I am none . Big . Who kill'd this prince ! Hub . ' Tis not an hour since I left him well : I honour'd him , I lov'd him ; and will weep My date of life out , for his sweet life's loss . Sal ...
Pagina 81
... villain up.- I do suspect thee very grievously . Hub . If I in act , consent , or sin of thought Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay , Let hell want pains enough to torture me ! I left ...
... villain up.- I do suspect thee very grievously . Hub . If I in act , consent , or sin of thought Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay , Let hell want pains enough to torture me ! I left ...
Pagina 84
... villain Hubert told me , he did live . Bast . So , on my soul , he did , for aught he knew . But wherefore do you droop ? why look you sad ? Be great in act , as you have been in thought ; Let not the world see fear , and sad distrust ...
... villain Hubert told me , he did live . Bast . So , on my soul , he did , for aught he knew . But wherefore do you droop ? why look you sad ? Be great in act , as you have been in thought ; Let not the world see fear , and sad distrust ...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare : Accurately Printed from the ..., Volumul 5 William Shakespeare Vizualizare completă - 1805 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
arms art thou Aumerle Bard Bardolph Bast Bishop of Carlisle blood Boling Bolingbroke breath brother Const cousin crown dead death doth Duch duke duke of Hereford earl Eastcheap England Enter King Exeunt Exit eyes fair Falstaff Farewell father Faulconbridge fear France friends Gaunt give Glend Glendower grace grief hand Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven honour horse Host Hotspur Hubert John of Gaunt JOHNSON King Henry King John King Richard Lady Lancaster land liege look lord majesty master never night noble Northumberland peace Percy Pist play Poins pray prince Prince JOHN prince of Wales Queen Rich SCENE Shakspeare Shal Shallow shame sir John sir John Falstaff soul speak sweet sword tell thee thine thou art thou hast tongue true uncle villain Westmoreland wilt word York
Pasaje populare
Pagina 387 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! O Sleep, O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down.
Pagina 228 - I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. {Exit POINS. P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness : Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
Pagina 163 - And that small model of the barren earth, Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings : — How some have been depos'd, some slain in war; Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ; Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd ; All murder'd : — For within the hollow crown, That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Keeps death his court : and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state, and grinning...
Pagina 230 - Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin new reap'd Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; He was perfumed like a milliner ; And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and...
Pagina 63 - Or, What good love may I perform for you ? Many a poor man's son would have lain still, And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; But you, at your sick service, had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, And call it cunning. Do, an' if you will ; If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes ? These eyes that never did, nor never shall, So much as frown on you ? Hub.
Pagina 102 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Pagina 315 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it ? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why? Detraction will, not suffer it: — therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
Pagina 63 - I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had ; a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again ; And with my hand at midnight held your head ; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheered up the heavy time ; Saying, What lack you ? and, Where lies your grief?
Pagina 195 - God save him ; No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home ; But dust was thrown upon his sacred head, Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, His face still combating with tears and smiles, The badges of his grief and patience, That had not God, for some strong purpose, steeled The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, And barbarism itself have pitied him.
Pagina 315 - tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is that word honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! Who hath it? He that died o