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.]. |
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Pagina 8
... father that went hence fo faft ? [ Exeunt Ben . It was : what fadness lengthens Romeo's hours ? Rom Not having that , which having makes them . fhort . Ben . In love ? Rom . Out- Ben . Of love ? Rom . Out of her favour , where I am in ...
... father that went hence fo faft ? [ Exeunt Ben . It was : what fadness lengthens Romeo's hours ? Rom Not having that , which having makes them . fhort . Ben . In love ? Rom . Out- Ben . Of love ? Rom . Out of her favour , where I am in ...
Pagina 25
... father , and refuse thy name : Or . if thou wilt not , be but fworn iny love , And I'll no longer be a Capulet . Rom . Shall I hear more , or fhall I speak at this ? Jul . ' Tis but thy name that is my enemy . Thou art thy felf , though ...
... father , and refuse thy name : Or . if thou wilt not , be but fworn iny love , And I'll no longer be a Capulet . Rom . Shall I hear more , or fhall I speak at this ? Jul . ' Tis but thy name that is my enemy . Thou art thy felf , though ...
Pagina 30
... father . Fri. Benedicite ! What early tongue so sweet faluteth me ? Young fon , it argues a diftemper'd head So foon to bid good morrow to thy bed : Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye , And where care lodgeth , fleep will never ...
... father . Fri. Benedicite ! What early tongue so sweet faluteth me ? Young fon , it argues a diftemper'd head So foon to bid good morrow to thy bed : Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye , And where care lodgeth , fleep will never ...
Pagina 31
William Shakespeare Hugh Blair. Rom . With Rofaline , my ghoftly father ? no . I have forgot that name , and that name's woe . Fri. That's my good fon : but where haft thou been then ? Ron I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again . I have ...
William Shakespeare Hugh Blair. Rom . With Rofaline , my ghoftly father ? no . I have forgot that name , and that name's woe . Fri. That's my good fon : but where haft thou been then ? Ron I'll tell thee ere thou ask it me again . I have ...
Pagina 32
... father's , I fpoke with his man . Mer . Why , that fame pale , hard - hearted wench , that Rofaline , torments him fo , that he will fure run mad . Ben . Tybalt , the kinfman to old Capulet , Hath fent a letter to his father's houfe ...
... father's , I fpoke with his man . Mer . Why , that fame pale , hard - hearted wench , that Rofaline , torments him fo , that he will fure run mad . Ben . Tybalt , the kinfman to old Capulet , Hath fent a letter to his father's houfe ...
Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
The works of Shakespear [ed. by H. Blair], in which the beauties observed by ... William Shakespeare Vizualizare completă - 1769 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
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
Pasaje populare
Pagina 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.
Pagina 133 - No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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!
Pagina 177 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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.
Pagina 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...