The British Theatre; Or, A Collection of Plays,: Which are Acted at the Theatres Royal, Drury-Lane, Covent-Garden, and Haymarket ...Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1808 |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–5 iš 74
28 psl.
... dead . For slander lives ev'n to posterity , For ever hous'd , when once it gets possession . Ant . of Eph . You have prevail'd — I will depart in quiet , And , in despite of wrath , try to be merry . I know a wench of excellent ...
... dead . For slander lives ev'n to posterity , For ever hous'd , when once it gets possession . Ant . of Eph . You have prevail'd — I will depart in quiet , And , in despite of wrath , try to be merry . I know a wench of excellent ...
20 psl.
... dead I hold it not a sin . Cap . Why how now , kinsman , wherefore storm you thus ? Tib . Uncle , this is a Montague , our foe ; A villain that is hither come in spite , To scorn and butt at our solemnity . Cap . Young Romeo is't ? Tib ...
... dead I hold it not a sin . Cap . Why how now , kinsman , wherefore storm you thus ? Tib . Uncle , this is a Montague , our foe ; A villain that is hither come in spite , To scorn and butt at our solemnity . Cap . Young Romeo is't ? Tib ...
31 psl.
... dead ! Ben . Dead ! - Mer . Stabb'd with a white wench's black eye , run through the ear with a love song , the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow - boy's butt shaft ; and is he a man to encounter Tibalt ? Ben . Why , what ...
... dead ! Ben . Dead ! - Mer . Stabb'd with a white wench's black eye , run through the ear with a love song , the very pin of his heart cleft with the blind bow - boy's butt shaft ; and is he a man to encounter Tibalt ? Ben . Why , what ...
40 psl.
... dead ; That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds , Which too untimely here did scorn the earth . Here comes the furious Tibalt back again . Rom . Alive in triumph ? and Mercutio slain ? 40 [ ACT III . ROMEO AND JULIET .
... dead ; That gallant spirit hath aspir'd the clouds , Which too untimely here did scorn the earth . Here comes the furious Tibalt back again . Rom . Alive in triumph ? and Mercutio slain ? 40 [ ACT III . ROMEO AND JULIET .
43 psl.
... dead , he's dead , he's dead ! We are undone , lady , we are undone- Jul . Can Heaven be so envious ? Nurse . Romeo can , Though Heaven cannot . Oh ! Romeo ! Romeo ! , Jul . What devil art thou , that dost torment me thus ? This torture ...
... dead , he's dead , he's dead ! We are undone , lady , we are undone- Jul . Can Heaven be so envious ? Nurse . Romeo can , Though Heaven cannot . Oh ! Romeo ! Romeo ! , Jul . What devil art thou , that dost torment me thus ? This torture ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The British Theatre; Or, A Collection of Plays,– Which are Acted at the ... Mrs. Inchbald Visos knygos peržiūra - 1808 |
The British Theatre; Or, A Collection of Plays,– Which are Acted at the ... Mrs. Inchbald Visos knygos peržiūra - 1808 |
The British Theatre; Or, A Collection of Plays– Which are Acted at the ... Elizabeth Inchbald Visos knygos peržiūra - 1808 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Abbess Angelo ANTIPHOLIS art thou Arth BENVOLIO blood brother Buck CAPULET Catesby cousin dead dear death didst dost doth DROMIO Duch Duke Egeon England Enter EPHESUS Exeunt Exit Exit ENGLISH eyes fair farewell father Faul FAULCONBRIDGE fear France Friar FRIAR LAWRENCE friends gentle GENTLEMEN GHOST give Glost GLOSTER Graved grief GUILDENSTERN Hamlet hand hath hear heart Heaven holy Horatio Hubert husband Juliet kill'd KING JOHN Lady Laer Laertes Lesbia live look lord LORD STANLEY madam majesty Mercutio mistress mother ne'er never night Nurse Ophelia OSRICK PANDULPH peace Phil play POLONIUS pray Prince Queen Romeo Romeo and Juliet ROSENCRANTZ SCENE sorrow soul speak Stanley sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou art thou hast Tibalt tongue Tressel Trumpets villain wife wilt word
Populiarios ištraukos
18 psl. - What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous, and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
28 psl. - Sweet, so would I : Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow.
32 psl. - What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel ! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.
20 psl. - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
45 psl. - No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear? Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for herself...
79 psl. - No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it; as thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make loam, and why of that loam, whereto he was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
13 psl. - I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them...
40 psl. - To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect...
18 psl. - But to my mind, — though I am native here, And to the manner born, — it is a custom More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
44 psl. - ... twere, the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure.