The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text of the corrected copy left by G. Steevens, with glossarial notes, Volum 6 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 11.
Pàgina 35
... Suff . How is the king employ'd ? Chum . Full of sad thoughts and troubles . Nor . I left him private , What's the cause ? Cham . It seems , the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience . Suff . Has crept ...
... Suff . How is the king employ'd ? Chum . Full of sad thoughts and troubles . Nor . I left him private , What's the cause ? Cham . It seems , the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience . Suff . Has crept ...
Pàgina 36
... Suff . Pray God , he do ! he'll never know himself else . Nor . How holily he works in all his business ! And with what zeal ! For , now he has crack'd the league Between us and the emperor , the queen's great ne- phew , Ile dives into ...
... Suff . Pray God , he do ! he'll never know himself else . Nor . How holily he works in all his business ! And with what zeal ! For , now he has crack'd the league Between us and the emperor , the queen's great ne- phew , Ile dives into ...
Pàgina 37
... Suff . How sad he looks ! sure , he is much af- flicted . K. Hen . Who is there ? ha ? Nor . Pray God , he be not angry . K. Hen . Who's there , I say ? How dare you thrust yourselves Into my private meditations ? Who am I ? ha ? Nor ...
... Suff . How sad he looks ! sure , he is much af- flicted . K. Hen . Who is there ? ha ? Nor . Pray God , he be not angry . K. Hen . Who's there , I say ? How dare you thrust yourselves Into my private meditations ? Who am I ? ha ? Nor ...
Pàgina 38
... Suff . Not to speak of ; I would not be so sick though * , for his place : But this cannot continue . [ Aside . Nor . If it do , I'll venture one heave at him . Suff . I another . [ Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk . Wol . Your grace has ...
... Suff . Not to speak of ; I would not be so sick though * , for his place : But this cannot continue . [ Aside . Nor . If it do , I'll venture one heave at him . Suff . I another . [ Exeunt Norfolk and Suffolk . Wol . Your grace has ...
Pàgina 60
... Suff . Which of the peers Have uncontemn'd gone by him , or at least Strangely neglected ? when did he regard The stamp of nobleness in any person , Out of himself ? Cham . My lords , you speak your pleasures : What he deserves of you ...
... Suff . Which of the peers Have uncontemn'd gone by him , or at least Strangely neglected ? when did he regard The stamp of nobleness in any person , Out of himself ? Cham . My lords , you speak your pleasures : What he deserves of you ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text of the corrected ..., Volum 5 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1811 |
The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text of the corrected ..., Volum 7 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1811 |
The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text of the corrected ..., Volum 8 William Shakespeare Visualització completa - 1811 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
Achilles Æneas Agam Agamemnon Ajax Alcib Alcibiades Antenor Antium Apem Apemantus Athens Aufidius bear beseech blood Calchas cardinal Cham Cominius Coriolanus Cres Cressid Crom Diomed dost doth duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell fear Flav fool friends Gent give gods grace Grecian Greeks hate hath hear heart heaven Hect Hector Helen honour i'the Kath king lady Lart Lartius look Lord Chamberlain lord Timon madam Menelaus Menenius musick ne'er Nest Nestor never noble o'the Pandarus Patr Patroclus peace poor Pr'ythee pray Priam prince queen Rome SCENE Senators Sero Serv Servant Sir Thomas Lovell soul speak stand Suff sweet sword tell thank thee Ther there's Thersites thine thing thou art thou hast Timon to't tongue Troilus Trojan Troy true trumpet Ulyss voices Volces What's words worthy
Passatges populars
Pàgina 72 - Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Pàgina 175 - Keeps honour bright : To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way ; For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast : keep, then, the path...
Pàgina 72 - O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Pàgina 299 - I'll example you with thievery : The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction , ' Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : . • The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief, That feeds and breeds by a composture " stolen From general excrement : each thing's a thief; The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have uncheck'd theft.
Pàgina 285 - Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair, Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant. Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides, Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench...
Pàgina 75 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr...
Pàgina 431 - O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome; But for your son— believe it, O, believe it!— Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him.
Pàgina 74 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee...
Pàgina 175 - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
Pàgina 72 - Farewell ! a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him . The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.