The Plays of William Shakspeare. ....T. Bensley, 1800 |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 82.
Pàgina 2
... these pagans , in those holy fields , Over whofe acres walk'd thofe bleffed feet , Which , fourteen hundred years ago , were nail'd For our advantage , on the bitter cross . But this our purpose is a twelve - month old , And bootless ...
... these pagans , in those holy fields , Over whofe acres walk'd thofe bleffed feet , Which , fourteen hundred years ago , were nail'd For our advantage , on the bitter cross . But this our purpose is a twelve - month old , And bootless ...
Pàgina 11
... these indignities , And you have found me ; for , accordingly , You tread upon my patience : but , be sure , I will from henceforth rather be myself , Mighty , and to be fear'd , than my condition ; Which hath been smooth as oil , foft ...
... these indignities , And you have found me ; for , accordingly , You tread upon my patience : but , be sure , I will from henceforth rather be myself , Mighty , and to be fear'd , than my condition ; Which hath been smooth as oil , foft ...
Pàgina 13
... these vile guns , He would himself have been a foldier . This bald unjointed chat of his , my lord , I anfwer'd indirectly , as I faid ; And , I beseech you , let not his report Come current for an accufation , Betwixt my love and your ...
... these vile guns , He would himself have been a foldier . This bald unjointed chat of his , my lord , I anfwer'd indirectly , as I faid ; And , I beseech you , let not his report Come current for an accufation , Betwixt my love and your ...
Pàgina 15
... these veins , And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the duft , But I will lift the down - trod Mortimer As high i'the air as this unthankful king , As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke . North . Brother , the king hath made your ...
... these veins , And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the duft , But I will lift the down - trod Mortimer As high i'the air as this unthankful king , As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke . North . Brother , the king hath made your ...
Pàgina 16
... under this fubtle king.- Shall it , for fhame , be fpoken in these days , Or fill up chronicles in time to come , That men of your nobility and power , Did Did ' gage them both in an unjust behalf , FIRST PART OF Ая 1 .
... under this fubtle king.- Shall it , for fhame , be fpoken in these days , Or fill up chronicles in time to come , That men of your nobility and power , Did Did ' gage them both in an unjust behalf , FIRST PART OF Ая 1 .
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...