The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, Zväzok 3Harper & Bros., 1839 |
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Výsledky 1 - 5 z 35.
Strana 344
... POINS . GADSHILL . РЕТО . BARDOLPH . Lady PERCY , wife to Hotspur , and sister to Mortimer . Lady MORTIMER , daughter to Glendower , and wife to Mor- timer . Mrs. QUICKLY , hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap . Lords , Officers , Sheriff ...
... POINS . GADSHILL . РЕТО . BARDOLPH . Lady PERCY , wife to Hotspur , and sister to Mortimer . Lady MORTIMER , daughter to Glendower , and wife to Mor- timer . Mrs. QUICKLY , hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap . Lords , Officers , Sheriff ...
Strana 351
... POINS , at a distance . Fal . Why , Hal , ' tis my vocation , Hal ; ' tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation . Poins ! -Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match . O , if men were to be saved by merit , what hole in hell ...
... POINS , at a distance . Fal . Why , Hal , ' tis my vocation , Hal ; ' tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation . Poins ! -Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match . O , if men were to be saved by merit , what hole in hell ...
Strana 352
... Poins . You will , chops ? Fal . Hal , wilt thou make one ? P. Hen . Who , I rob ? I a thief ? not I , by my faith . Fal . There's neither honesty , manhood , nor good fel- lowship in thee , nor thou camest not of the blood royal , if ...
... Poins . You will , chops ? Fal . Hal , wilt thou make one ? P. Hen . Who , I rob ? I a thief ? not I , by my faith . Fal . There's neither honesty , manhood , nor good fel- lowship in thee , nor thou camest not of the blood royal , if ...
Strana 353
... Poins . Tut ! our horses they shall not see , I'll tie them in the wood ; our visors we will change , after we leave them ; and , sirrah , I have cases of buckram for the nonce , " to immask our noted outward garments . P. Hen . But , I ...
... Poins . Tut ! our horses they shall not see , I'll tie them in the wood ; our visors we will change , after we leave them ; and , sirrah , I have cases of buckram for the nonce , " to immask our noted outward garments . P. Hen . But , I ...
Strana 366
... Poins . Come , shelter , shelter ; I have removed Fal- staff's horse , and he frets like a gummed velvet . P. Hen . Stand close . Enter FALSTAFF . Fal . Poins ! Poins , and be hanged ! Poins ! P. Hen . Peace , ye fat - kidneyed rascal ...
... Poins . Come , shelter , shelter ; I have removed Fal- staff's horse , and he frets like a gummed velvet . P. Hen . Stand close . Enter FALSTAFF . Fal . Poins ! Poins , and be hanged ! Poins ! P. Hen . Peace , ye fat - kidneyed rascal ...
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arms art thou Aumerle Banquo Bard Bardolph Bast blood Bohemia Boling Bolingbroke breath brother Camillo cousin crown dead death dost doth duke duke of Hereford earl England Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Falstaff father Faulconbridge fear friends Gaunt give grace grief hand Harry Harry Percy hath head hear heart heaven Henry honour Host JOHNSON King John king Richard Lady land liege live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff majesty MALONE master means never night noble Northumberland peace Percy play Poins pr'ythee pray prince prince of Wales queen Re-enter Rich Rosse SCENE Shakespeare Shal shame Shep signifies sir John sir John Falstaff soul speak stand STEEVENS sweet sword tell thane thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought tongue true WARBURTON Witch word York
Populárne pasáže
Strana 64 - I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that ; move still, still so, And own no other function : each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, That all your acts are queens.
Strana 471 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast, Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge. And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Strana 470 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! O Sleep, O gentle Sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down.
Strana 307 - All murder'd; for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits, Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene, To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and humour'd thus Comes at the last and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Strana 418 - 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
Strana 284 - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...
Strana 408 - I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, 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.
Strana 63 - Say there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Strana 148 - The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.
Strana 307 - Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence : throw away respect, Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while: I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, How can you say to me I am a king?