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.]. |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 47.
Strana 3
... blood makes civil hands unclean . From forth the fatal loins of these two foes , A pair of far - crofs'd lovers take their life ; Whofe mifadventur'd piteous overthrows Do , with thei death , bury their parents ' ftrife . The fearful ...
... blood makes civil hands unclean . From forth the fatal loins of these two foes , A pair of far - crofs'd lovers take their life ; Whofe mifadventur'd piteous overthrows Do , with thei death , bury their parents ' ftrife . The fearful ...
Strana 37
... blood , She'd be as fwift in motion as a ball ; My words would bandy her to my fweet love , And his to me . Enter Nurfe with Peter . O God , fhe comes . O honey nurse , what news ? [ Exit Peter . Halt thou met with him ? fend thy man ...
... blood , She'd be as fwift in motion as a ball ; My words would bandy her to my fweet love , And his to me . Enter Nurfe with Peter . O God , fhe comes . O honey nurse , what news ? [ Exit Peter . Halt thou met with him ? fend thy man ...
Strana 39
... blood up in your cheeks , They'll be in scarlet straight at any news . Hie you to church , I must another away , To fetch a ladder , by the which your love Muft climb a bird's neft foon , when it is dark . I am the drudge and toil in ...
... blood up in your cheeks , They'll be in scarlet straight at any news . Hie you to church , I must another away , To fetch a ladder , by the which your love Muft climb a bird's neft foon , when it is dark . I am the drudge and toil in ...
Strana 40
... blood stirring . Mer . Thou art like one of thofe fellows , that when he enters the confines of a tavern , claps me his fword upon the table , and fays , God fend me no need of thee ! and by the operation of the fecond cup , draws it on ...
... blood stirring . Mer . Thou art like one of thofe fellows , that when he enters the confines of a tavern , claps me his fword upon the table , and fays , God fend me no need of thee ! and by the operation of the fecond cup , draws it on ...
Strana 44
... blood of ours , fhed blood of Montague . Prince . Benvolio , who began this fray ? Ben . Tybalt here flain , whom Romeo's hand did flay : Romeo , that spoke him fair , bid him bethink How nice the quarrel was , and urge'd withal Your ...
... blood of ours , fhed blood of Montague . Prince . Benvolio , who began this fray ? Ben . Tybalt here flain , whom Romeo's hand did flay : Romeo , that spoke him fair , bid him bethink How nice the quarrel was , and urge'd withal Your ...
Iné vydania - Zobraziť všetky
Časté výrazy a frázy
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
Populárne pasáže
Strana 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.
Strana 133 - No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning.
Strana 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.
Strana 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!
Strana 177 - I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers Could not with all their quantity of love, Make up my sum.
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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.
Strana 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...