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 3
... tell your piteous heart , There's no harm done . Mira . Pro . O , woe the day ! No harm . I have done nothing but in care of thee , ( Of thee , my dear one ! thee , my daughter ! ) who Art ignorant of what thou art , nought knowing Of ...
... tell your piteous heart , There's no harm done . Mira . Pro . O , woe the day ! No harm . I have done nothing but in care of thee , ( Of thee , my dear one ! thee , my daughter ! ) who Art ignorant of what thou art , nought knowing Of ...
Página 5
... telling of it , Made such a sinner of his memory , To credit his own lie , -he did believe He was indeed the duke ; out ... tell me , If this might be a brother . I should sin Mira . To think but nobly of my grandmother : Good wombs have ...
... telling of it , Made such a sinner of his memory , To credit his own lie , -he did believe He was indeed the duke ; out ... tell me , If this might be a brother . I should sin Mira . To think but nobly of my grandmother : Good wombs have ...
Página 23
... tell you , and that soundly : you cannot tell who's your friend : open your chaps again . Trin . I should know that voice : It should be - But he is drowned ; and these are devils : O ! defend me ! — His Ste . Four legs , and two voices ...
... tell you , and that soundly : you cannot tell who's your friend : open your chaps again . Trin . I should know that voice : It should be - But he is drowned ; and these are devils : O ! defend me ! — His Ste . Four legs , and two voices ...
Página 54
... tell - tales here ? Jul . If you respect them , best to take them up . Luc . Nay , I was taken up for laying them down : Yet here they shall not lie , for catching cold . Jul . I see you have a month's mind to them . Luc . Ay , madam ...
... tell - tales here ? Jul . If you respect them , best to take them up . Luc . Nay , I was taken up for laying them down : Yet here they shall not lie , for catching cold . Jul . I see you have a month's mind to them . Luc . Ay , madam ...
Página 56
... tell me , do you know madam Silvia ? Speed . She that your worship loves ? Val . Why , how know you that I am in love ? Speed . Marry , by these special marks : First , you have learned , like sir Proteus , to wreath your arms like a ...
... tell me , do you know madam Silvia ? Speed . She that your worship loves ? Val . Why , how know you that I am in love ? Speed . Marry , by these special marks : First , you have learned , like sir Proteus , to wreath your arms like a ...
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.