Opinião das pessoas - Escrever uma crítica
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Allw ALLWORTH Angelo bear believe better bring brother character Charles comes Crosses daughter dear death door Duke Enter Exeunt Exit Fanny father fear follow fortune give hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Heidel hold honour hope husband I'll Irwin Isab John keep Lady F leave live look Lord Ogl Lovewell Lucio madam marry master mean mind Miss Miss Ster morning nature never noble Oakly once Placid poor pray present SCENE servant Sir G Sir Giles Sir John Sir Robert sister Solus speak spirit Stage stand stay Step Ster Sterling sure tell thank thee thing thou thought true turn voice whole wife wish woman young
Página 9 - Thou hast nor youth, nor age ; But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld...
Página 10 - Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
Página 10 - Admired Miranda ! Indeed the top of admiration ; worth What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard ; and many a time The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear...
Página 10 - The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning! And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! I am your wife, if you will marry me; If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, Whether you will or no.
Página 66 - From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty ; As surfeit is the father of much fast, So every scope by the immoderate use Turns to restraint; our natures do pursue (Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,) A thirsty evil ; and when we drinK, we die.
Página 6 - Where should this music be ? i' the air, or the earth ? It sounds no more: — and sure, it waits upon Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the king my father's wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters; Allaying both their fury, and my passion, With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it, Or it hath drawn me rather: — But 'tis gone.