The Plays of William Shakspeare. ....T. Bensley, 1800 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 74.
Pàgina 15
... heart , Although it be with hazard of my head . North . What , drunk with choler ? ftay , and pause a while ; Here comes your uncle . Re - enter WORCESTER . Hot . Speak of Mortimer ? ' Zounds , I will speak of him ; and let my foul Want ...
... heart , Although it be with hazard of my head . North . What , drunk with choler ? ftay , and pause a while ; Here comes your uncle . Re - enter WORCESTER . Hot . Speak of Mortimer ? ' Zounds , I will speak of him ; and let my foul Want ...
Pàgina 30
... heart , will he to the king , and lay open all our proceedings . O , I could divide myfelf , and go to buffets , for moving fuch a dish of skimm'd milk with fo honourable an action ! Hang him ! let him tell the king : We are prepared ...
... heart , will he to the king , and lay open all our proceedings . O , I could divide myfelf , and go to buffets , for moving fuch a dish of skimm'd milk with fo honourable an action ! Hang him ! let him tell the king : We are prepared ...
Pàgina 34
... heart— Poins . [ Within . ] Francis ! Fran . Anon , anon , fir . P. Hen . How old art thou , Francis ? Fran . Let me fee , -About Michaelmas next I fhall be- Poins . [ Within . ] Francis ! Fran . Fran . Anon , fir . - Pray you , 34 A ...
... heart— Poins . [ Within . ] Francis ! Fran . Anon , anon , fir . P. Hen . How old art thou , Francis ? Fran . Let me fee , -About Michaelmas next I fhall be- Poins . [ Within . ] Francis ! Fran . Fran . Anon , fir . - Pray you , 34 A ...
Pàgina 41
... hearts of gold ! All the titles of good fellowship come to you ! What , fhall we be mer- ry ? shall we have a play extempore ? P. Hen . Content ; -and the argument fhall be , thy run- ning away . Fal . Ah ! no more of that , Hal , an ...
... hearts of gold ! All the titles of good fellowship come to you ! What , fhall we be mer- ry ? shall we have a play extempore ? P. Hen . Content ; -and the argument fhall be , thy run- ning away . Fal . Ah ! no more of that , Hal , an ...
Pàgina 55
... heart ; I had rather be a kitten , and cry - mew , Than one of these fame metre ballad - mongers : I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd , Or a dry wheel grate on the axle - tree ; And that would fet my teeth nothing on edge ...
... heart ; I had rather be a kitten , and cry - mew , Than one of these fame metre ballad - mongers : I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd , Or a dry wheel grate on the axle - tree ; And that would fet my teeth nothing on edge ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
againſt anſwer art thou Bard Bardolph blood brother captain cauſe Colevile coufin crown doft doth duke duke of Burgundy England Engliſh Enter Exeunt Exit fack faid FALSTAFF fame father fear fhall fir John firſt foldiers fome foul fpirit France French ftand fuch fword give Glend grace Harfleur Harry hath hear heart heaven himſelf Hoft honour horfe horſe houſe Juft Kate Kath King HENRY Lady liege lord mafter majeſty miſtreſs moft moſt muſt myſelf never night noble Northumberland numbers peace Percy Pift Piſtol pleaſe Poins pr'ythee praiſe pray preſent prince Prince JOHN prince of Wales priſoners purpoſe rafcal reaſon ſay SCENE ſee Shal ſhall ſhould ſhow ſpeak ſtand ſtate ſuch ſweet tell thee theſe thoſe thou art thouſand unto uſe Weft whofe Whoſe yourſelf
Passatges populars
Pàgina 92 - 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.
Pàgina 37 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more : Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing- so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears. Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood...
Pàgina 92 - 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 in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Pàgina 82 - Tut, tut ! good enough to toss ; food for powder, food for powder ; they'll fill a pit, as well as better ; tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
Pàgina 78 - His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Pàgina 60 - Now entertain conjecture of a time, When creeping murmur, and the poring dark, Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
Pàgina 52 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased ; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
Pàgina 38 - Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding— which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit; and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!
Pàgina 51 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Pàgina 8 - Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt...