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 |
No interior do livro
Resultados 1-5 de 80
Página 15
... mean our preservation , few in millions , Can speak like us : then wisely , good sir , weigh Our sorrow with our ... means to live . Seb . Of that there's none , or little . Gon . How lush and lusty the grass looks ! how green ! Ant ...
... mean our preservation , few in millions , Can speak like us : then wisely , good sir , weigh Our sorrow with our ... means to live . Seb . Of that there's none , or little . Gon . How lush and lusty the grass looks ! how green ! Ant ...
Página 16
... mean , in a sort . Ant . That sort was well fish'd for . Gon . When I wore it at your daughter's marriage ? Alon . You cram these words into mine ears , against The stomach of my sense : ' Would I had never Married my daughter there ...
... mean , in a sort . Ant . That sort was well fish'd for . Gon . When I wore it at your daughter's marriage ? Alon . You cram these words into mine ears , against The stomach of my sense : ' Would I had never Married my daughter there ...
Página 25
... mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious ; but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead , And makes my labours pleasures : O , she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed ; And he's compos'd of harshness . I must ...
... mean task Would be as heavy to me as odious ; but The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead , And makes my labours pleasures : O , she is Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed ; And he's compos'd of harshness . I must ...
Página 38
... mean , To dote thus on such luggage ? Let's alone , And do the murther first : if he awake , From toe to crown he ' ll fill our skins with pinches ; Make us strange stuff . Ste . Be you quiet , monster . - Mistress line , is not this my ...
... mean , To dote thus on such luggage ? Let's alone , And do the murther first : if he awake , From toe to crown he ' ll fill our skins with pinches ; Make us strange stuff . Ste . Be you quiet , monster . - Mistress line , is not this my ...
Página 50
... mean the pound , a pinfold . Speed . From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and over , ' Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover . Pro . But what said she ? did she nod ? Speed . I. Pro . Nod , I ; why , that's noddy ...
... mean the pound , a pinfold . Speed . From a pound to a pin ? fold it over and over , ' Tis threefold too little for carrying a letter to your lover . Pro . But what said she ? did she nod ? Speed . I. Pro . Nod , I ; why , that's noddy ...
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.