The Plays of William Shakespeare : Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copy Left by the Late George Steevens: With a Series of Engravings, from Original Designs of Henry Fuseli, and a Selection of Explanatory and Historical Notes, from the Most Eminent Commentators; a History of the Stage, a Life of Shakespeare, &c. by Alexander Chalmers, Volume 3F.C. and J. Rivington, 1805 |
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Página 40
... lady that subdues a lord , Enter COSTARD . Prin . Here comes a member of the common- wealth . Cost . God dig - you - den ' all ! Pray you , which is the head lady ? Prin . Thou shalt know her , fellow , by the rest that have no heads ...
... lady that subdues a lord , Enter COSTARD . Prin . Here comes a member of the common- wealth . Cost . God dig - you - den ' all ! Pray you , which is the head lady ? Prin . Thou shalt know her , fellow , by the rest that have no heads ...
Página 41
... lady Rosaline . Prin . O , thy letter , thy letter ; he's a good friend of mine : Stand aside , good bearer . - Boyet , you can carve ; Break up this capon . Boyet . I am bound to serve.- This letter is mistook , it importeth none here ...
... lady Rosaline . Prin . O , thy letter , thy letter ; he's a good friend of mine : Stand aside , good bearer . - Boyet , you can carve ; Break up this capon . Boyet . I am bound to serve.- This letter is mistook , it importeth none here ...
Página 42
... lady . Prin . To whom shouldst thou give it ? Cost . Prin . From which lord , to which lady ? Cost . From my lord Biron , a good master of mine ; To a lady of France , that he call'd Rosaline . 9 1 rewhile . ] Just now ; a little while ...
... lady . Prin . To whom shouldst thou give it ? Cost . Prin . From which lord , to which lady ? Cost . From my lord Biron , a good master of mine ; To a lady of France , that he call'd Rosaline . 9 1 rewhile . ] Just now ; a little while ...
Página 43
... lady goes to kill horns ; but , if thou marry , Hang me by the neck , if horns that year mis- carry . Finely put on ! Ros . Well then , I am the shooter . Boyet . And who is your deer ? Ros . If we choose by the horns , yourself : come ...
... lady goes to kill horns ; but , if thou marry , Hang me by the neck , if horns that year mis- carry . Finely put on ! Ros . Well then , I am the shooter . Boyet . And who is your deer ? Ros . If we choose by the horns , yourself : come ...
Página 44
... lady ! be . Let the mark have a prick in't , to mete at , if it may Mar. Wide o ' the bow hand ! I'faith your hand is out . Cost . Indeed , a ' must shoot nearer , or he'll ne'er hit the clout . * Boyet . An if my hand be out , then ...
... lady ! be . Let the mark have a prick in't , to mete at , if it may Mar. Wide o ' the bow hand ! I'faith your hand is out . Cost . Indeed , a ' must shoot nearer , or he'll ne'er hit the clout . * Boyet . An if my hand be out , then ...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare : Accurately Printed from the ..., Volume 3 William Shakespeare Visualização integral - 1805 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
Antonio Armado Bass Bassanio BERTRAM better Biron blood Boyet CELIA Cost Costard Count court daughter dear dost doth ducats Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fair lady father fear fool forsworn fortune gentle give grace Gratiano hand hast hath hear heart heaven honour Jaques Jessica JOHNSON Kath King knave lady LAFEU Laun Launcelot live look lord Lorenzo lov'd LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST lover madam maid MALONE marry master means MERCHANT OF VENICE mistress Moth musick Navarre Nerissa never oath Orlando Parolles peize Phebe Pompey poor Portia pr'ythee praise pray ring Rosalind Rousillon Salan Salar SCENE Shakspeare shalt Shylock speak STEEVENS swear sweet tell thank thee thine thing thou art thrasonical tongue Touch true Venice wife woman word young youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 105 - Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted...
Página 231 - 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 but 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.
Página 249 - With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and...
Página 249 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Página 125 - How like a fawning publican he looks ! I hate him for he is a Christian : But more, for that, in low simplicity, He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
Página 127 - Shylock, we would have monies', You say so; You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur Over your threshold; monies is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say, Hath a dog money? is it possible, A cur can lend three thousand ducats'?
Página 188 - Nay, take my life and all, pardon not that : You take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house ; you take my life, When you do take the means whereby I live.
Página 117 - Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff : you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.
Página 192 - The moon shines bright: — In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise; in such a night, Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night.
Página 245 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.