Works: Tempest. Two gentlemen of Verona. Merry wives of Windsor. Measure for measure. Comedy of errors. Much ado about nothing. Love's labour's lost. A midsummer-night's dream. The merchant of Venice. As you like it. Taming of the shrew. All's well that ends well. Twelfth night, or What you will. Winter's tale. King JohnG. Routledge, 1889 |
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Página 48
... SPEED , a clownish servant to Valentine . LAUNCE , the like to Proteus . PANTHINO , servant to Antonio . HOST , where Julia lodges . OUT - LAWS with Valentine . JULIA , a lady of Verona , beloved of Proteus . SILVIA , the Duke's ...
... SPEED , a clownish servant to Valentine . LAUNCE , the like to Proteus . PANTHINO , servant to Antonio . HOST , where Julia lodges . OUT - LAWS with Valentine . JULIA , a lady of Verona , beloved of Proteus . SILVIA , the Duke's ...
Página 49
... SPEED . Speed . Sir Proteus , save you : Saw you my master ? But now he parted hence , to embark for Milan . Speed . Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already ; And I have played the sheep , in losing him SCENE 1 ] 49 TWO GENTLEMEN OF ...
... SPEED . Speed . Sir Proteus , save you : Saw you my master ? But now he parted hence , to embark for Milan . Speed . Twenty to one then he is shipp'd already ; And I have played the sheep , in losing him SCENE 1 ] 49 TWO GENTLEMEN OF ...
Página 50
... Speed . You conclude that my master is a shepherd then , and I a sheep ? Pro . I do . Speed . Why then my horns are his horns , whether I wake or sleep . Pro . A silly answer , and fitting well a sheep . Speed . This proves me still a ...
... Speed . You conclude that my master is a shepherd then , and I a sheep ? Pro . I do . Speed . Why then my horns are his horns , whether I wake or sleep . Pro . A silly answer , and fitting well a sheep . Speed . This proves me still a ...
Página 51
... Speed . Sir , I could perceive nothing at all from her ; no , not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter : And being so hard to me that brought your mind , I fear , she'll prove as hard to you in telling your mind . Give her no ...
... Speed . Sir , I could perceive nothing at all from her ; no , not so much as a ducat for delivering your letter : And being so hard to me that brought your mind , I fear , she'll prove as hard to you in telling your mind . Give her no ...
Página 56
... SPEED . Speed . Sir , your glove . Val . Not mine ; my gloves are on . Speed . Why then this may be yours , for this is but one . Ha ! let me see : ay , give it me , it's mine : - Val . Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine ! Ah ...
... SPEED . Speed . Sir , your glove . Val . Not mine ; my gloves are on . Speed . Why then this may be yours , for this is but one . Ha ! let me see : ay , give it me , it's mine : - Val . Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine ! Ah ...
Palavras e frases frequentes
Angelo art thou Bast Beat Benedick better Biron blood Boyet brother Caius Claud Claudio COSTARD daughter dear death dost thou doth ducats Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father Faulconbridge fear fool Ford gentle gentleman give grace Gremio hand hath hear heart heaven Hermia hither honour husband Illyria Isab John Kath King knave lady Laun Leon Leonato look lord Lucio Lysander madam maid Malvolio marry master master doctor mistress Moth never night pardon Pedro Pompey pray prince prithee Proteus Puck Re-enter Rosalind SCENE servant Shylock signior Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK soul speak Speed swear sweet tell thank thee there's Theseus thine thou art thou hast thou shalt Thurio tongue Tranio troth true unto villain What's wife woman word
Passagens conhecidas
Página 793 - O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. — This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Página 464 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we not the penalty of Adam. The seasons' difference, — as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body. Even till I shrink with cold, I smile and say 'This is no flattery' — these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.