The Plays of William Shakespeare: With Notes of Various Commentators, Volume 14G. Kearsley [Printed, 1806 |
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Página 4
... leave all ' these to the mercy of their mother - tongue , that feed on nought but the crums that fall from the translator's trencher . - That could scarcely latinize their neck verse if they should have ncede , yet English Seneca read ...
... leave all ' these to the mercy of their mother - tongue , that feed on nought but the crums that fall from the translator's trencher . - That could scarcely latinize their neck verse if they should have ncede , yet English Seneca read ...
Página 18
... leave and pardon . King . Have you your father's leave ? What says Polonius ? Pol . He hath , my lord , [ wrung from me my slow leave , By laboursome petition ; and , at last , Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent : ] I do beseech you ...
... leave and pardon . King . Have you your father's leave ? What says Polonius ? Pol . He hath , my lord , [ wrung from me my slow leave , By laboursome petition ; and , at last , Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent : ] I do beseech you ...
Página 28
... leave . Pol . Yet here , Laertes ! aboard , aboard , for shame ; The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail , And you are staid for : There , -my blessing with you ; [ Laying his hand on Laertes ' head . And these few precepts in thy ...
... leave . Pol . Yet here , Laertes ! aboard , aboard , for shame ; The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail , And you are staid for : There , -my blessing with you ; [ Laying his hand on Laertes ' head . And these few precepts in thy ...
Página 29
... humbly do I take my leave , my lord . Pol . The time invites you ; go , your servants tend . Laer . Farewell , Ophelia ; and remember well What I have said to you . Oph . ' Tis in my memory lock'd , And PRINCE OF DENMARK . 29.
... humbly do I take my leave , my lord . Pol . The time invites you ; go , your servants tend . Laer . Farewell , Ophelia ; and remember well What I have said to you . Oph . ' Tis in my memory lock'd , And PRINCE OF DENMARK . 29.
Página 39
... leave her to heaven , And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge , To prick and sting her . Fare thee well at once ! The glow - worm shows the matin to be near , And ' gins to pale his uneffectual fire : Adieu , adieu , adieu ...
... leave her to heaven , And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge , To prick and sting her . Fare thee well at once ! The glow - worm shows the matin to be near , And ' gins to pale his uneffectual fire : Adieu , adieu , adieu ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
The Plays of William Shakespeare: With Notes of Various Commentators, Volume 1 William Shakespeare Visualização de excertos - 1806 |
The Plays of William Shakespeare: With Notes of Various Commentators William Shakespeare Visualização de excertos - 1806 |
The Plays of William Shakespeare: With Notes of Various Commentators William Shakespeare Visualização de excertos - 1806 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
beseech Bian blood Brabantio Cassio Cyprus daughter dead dear death Denmark Desdemona devil dost thou doth drink Duke Emil Emilia Enter OTHELLO Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell father fear fool Fortinbras foul gentleman Ghost give grace Guil Guildenstern Hamlet hand handkerchief Hanmer hath hear heart heaven honest honour Horatio husband i'the Iago is't JOHNSON kill'd King knave lady Laer Laertes lieutenant look lord madam madness marry means Michael Cassio Moor murder nature never night noble Norway o'er Ophelia Osrick play poison'd Polonius Pr'ythee pray Pyrrhus quarto Queen racter revenge Roderigo Rosencrantz Rosencrantz and Guildenstern SCENE sense Shakspeare soul speak speech STEEVENS sweet sword tell thee There's thine thing thou hast thought to-night true Venice villain WARBURTON what's wife word
Passagens conhecidas
Página 156 - tis not to come ; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all.
Página 282 - Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls : Who steals my purse steals trash ; 'tis something, nothing ; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
Página 34 - What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous, and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Página 353 - No more of that. — I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am ; nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice...
Página 234 - twas wondrous pitiful : She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man ; she thank'd me, And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake : She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I lov'd her that she did pity them. This only is the witchcraft I have us'd : Here comes the lady ; let her witness it.
Página 79 - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue: but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
Página 102 - See, what a grace was seated on this brow; Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury, New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; A combination, and a form, indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Página 94 - Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Página 74 - tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil...
Página 143 - Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?