The Works of Shakespear: The comedy of errors. The winter's tale. The life and death of King John. King Richard IIRobert Martin, 1768 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
againſt anſwer Antigonus Antipholis Aumerle blood Bohemia Boling Bolingbroke breath Camillo cauſe Conft Coufin death doft thou doth Dromio Duke Enter Ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes fair falfe father Faul Faulconbridge fear fhall fhame fhew fhould fifter fince firft fome forrow foul fpeak France ftand ftill ftir ftrong fuch fwear fweet Gaunt grief H SCENE hand hath heart heav'n himſelf honour houſe Hubert huſband itſelf James Gurney John kifs King John lady laft Liege lord mafter Majefty Melun miſtreſs moft moſt muft muſt myſelf noble Northumberland peace Phil pleaſe pray prefent Prince purpoſe Queen reaſon reft Rich ſay SCENE ſhall ſhe Shep Sicilia ſpeak ſtay tell thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou art thouſand tongue whofe whoſe wife York yourſelf
Populiarios ištraukos
263 psl. - O, who can hold a fire in his hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast?
210 psl. - There's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
266 psl. - This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry...
292 psl. - To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and...
119 psl. - This is an art Which does mend nature — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
317 psl. - And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. Duch. Alas ! poor Richard ! where rides he the while ? York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
287 psl. - I weep for joy To stand upon my kingdom once again. Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs : As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favour with my royal hands.