The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes : Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected, with Notes, Explanatory, and Critical, Volumul 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 |
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Pagina 8
... bear it . Abr . Do you bite your thumb at us , Sir ? Sam . I do bite my thumb , Sir . Abr . Do you bite your thumb at us , Sir ? Sam . Is the law on our fide , if I fay , ay ? Greg . No. Sam . No , Sir , I do not bite but I bite my ...
... bear it . Abr . Do you bite your thumb at us , Sir ? Sam . I do bite my thumb , Sir . Abr . Do you bite your thumb at us , Sir ? Sam . Is the law on our fide , if I fay , ay ? Greg . No. Sam . No , Sir , I do not bite but I bite my ...
Pagina 18
... bear a brain . But , as I faid , when it did tafte the worm - wood on the nipple of my dug , and felt it bitter , pretty fool , to fee it teachy , and fall out with the dug . Shake , quoth the dove - houfe- -'twas no need , I trow , to ...
... bear a brain . But , as I faid , when it did tafte the worm - wood on the nipple of my dug , and felt it bitter , pretty fool , to fee it teachy , and fall out with the dug . Shake , quoth the dove - houfe- -'twas no need , I trow , to ...
Pagina 21
... bear the light . Mer . Nay , gentle Romeo , we must have you dance . Rom . Not I , believe me ; you have dancing fhoes With nimble foles ; I have a foul of lead , So ftakes me to the ground , I cannot move . Mer . You are a lover ...
... bear the light . Mer . Nay , gentle Romeo , we must have you dance . Rom . Not I , believe me ; you have dancing fhoes With nimble foles ; I have a foul of lead , So ftakes me to the ground , I cannot move . Mer . You are a lover ...
Pagina 24
... bear ; Making them women of good carriage : This is fhe- Rom . Peace , peace , Mercutio , peace ; Thou talk'ft of nothing . Mer . True , I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain , Begot of nothing , but vain phantafy ...
... bear ; Making them women of good carriage : This is fhe- Rom . Peace , peace , Mercutio , peace ; Thou talk'ft of nothing . Mer . True , I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain , Begot of nothing , but vain phantafy ...
Pagina 26
... ? Tyb . That villain Romeo . Cap . Content thee , gentle coz , let him alone ; He bears him like a portly gentleman : And , to fay truth , Verana brags of him , To To be a virtuous and well - govern'd youth . 26 ROMEO and JULIET .
... ? Tyb . That villain Romeo . Cap . Content thee , gentle coz , let him alone ; He bears him like a portly gentleman : And , to fay truth , Verana brags of him , To To be a virtuous and well - govern'd youth . 26 ROMEO and JULIET .
Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies ... William Shakespeare Vizualizare completă - 1740 |
The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes ; Collated with the ..., Volumul 8 William Shakespeare Vizualizare completă - 1740 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
againſt Benvolio Brabantio Caffio Capulet Clown Cyprus dead dear death Defdemona Denmark doft thou doth Duke Emil Enter ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid fair Farewel father feems feen fenfe fhall fhew fhould firft flain fleep fome Fortinbras foul fpeak Friar Lawrence ftand ftill fuch fure fweet fword gentlemen give Hamlet hath hear heart heav'n himſelf honeft Horatio houfe huſband Iago is't itſelf Juliet King lady Laer Laertes lago look Lord Madam Mantua marry Mercutio moft Moor moſt muft murder muſt myſelf night Nurfe Nurſe Ophelia Othello Perfon poifon Polonius pray Quarto Queen reafon reft Rodorigo Romeo SCENE ſhall ſhe ſpeak tell thee thefe there's theſe thing thofe thou art to-night Tybalt uſe villain whofe wife William Shakespeare yourſelf
Pasaje populare
Pagina 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?
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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...
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.