The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes : Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected, with Notes, Explanatory, and Critical, 8 tomasC. Hitch and L. Hawes, J. and R. Tonson, B. Dod, G. Woodfall, J. Rivington, R. Baldwin, T. Longman, S. Crowder and Company, W. Johnson, C. Corbet, T. Lownds, and T. Caslon, 1762 |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 15 iš 26
102 psl.
... Laertes , Son to Polonius . } Courtiers . Voltimand , Cornelius , Rofencrantz , Guildenstern , Ofrick , a Fop . Marcellus , an Officer . Bernardo , Francifco , } tro Soldiers . Reynoldo , Servant to Polonius . Ghoft of Hamlet's Father ...
... Laertes , Son to Polonius . } Courtiers . Voltimand , Cornelius , Rofencrantz , Guildenstern , Ofrick , a Fop . Marcellus , an Officer . Bernardo , Francifco , } tro Soldiers . Reynoldo , Servant to Polonius . Ghoft of Hamlet's Father ...
109 psl.
... Laertes , Voltimand , Cornelius , Lords and attendants . King ' T Hough yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green , and that it fitted To bear our hearts in grief , and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow ...
... Laertes , Voltimand , Cornelius , Lords and attendants . King ' T Hough yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death The memory be green , and that it fitted To bear our hearts in grief , and our whole kingdom To be contracted in one brow ...
110 psl.
... Laertes , what's the news with you ? You told us of fome fuit . What is't , Laertes ? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane , And lofe your voice . What would'ft thou beg , Laertes , That shall not be my offer , not thy asking ? The ...
... Laertes , what's the news with you ? You told us of fome fuit . What is't , Laertes ? You cannot speak of reason to the Dane , And lofe your voice . What would'ft thou beg , Laertes , That shall not be my offer , not thy asking ? The ...
117 psl.
... Laertes and Ophelia . neceffaries are imbark'd , farewel ; M'And , fifter , as the winds give benefit , convoy is affiftant , do not sleep , But let me hear from you . Oph . Do you doubt that ? Laer . For Hamlet , and the trifling of ...
... Laertes and Ophelia . neceffaries are imbark'd , farewel ; M'And , fifter , as the winds give benefit , convoy is affiftant , do not sleep , But let me hear from you . Oph . Do you doubt that ? Laer . For Hamlet , and the trifling of ...
119 psl.
... Laertes ! aboard , aboard for fhame ; The wind fits in the fhoulder of your fail , ( 6 ) And you are ftaid for . There ; My bleffing with you ; [ Laying his hand on Laertes's head . And these few precepts in thy memory See thou ...
... Laertes ! aboard , aboard for fhame ; The wind fits in the fhoulder of your fail , ( 6 ) And you are ftaid for . There ; My bleffing with you ; [ Laying his hand on Laertes's head . And these few precepts in thy memory See thou ...
Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
The Works of Shakespeare Collated with the Oldest Copies, and ..., 8 tomas William Shakespeare Visos knygos peržiūra - 1773 |
The Works of Shakespeare In Eight Volumes ; Collated with the ..., 8 tomas William Shakespeare Visos knygos peržiūra - 1740 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
againſt Benvolio Brabantio Caffio Capulet Clown Cyprus dead dear death Defdemona Denmark doft thou doth Duke Emil Enter ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid fair Farewel father feems feen fenfe fhall fhew fhould firft flain fleep fome Fortinbras foul fpeak Friar Lawrence ftand ftill fuch fure fweet fword gentlemen give Hamlet hath hear heart heav'n himſelf honeft Horatio houfe huſband Iago is't itſelf Juliet King lady Laer Laertes lago look Lord Madam Mantua marry Mercutio moft Moor moſt muft murder muſt myſelf night Nurfe Nurſe Ophelia Othello Perfon poifon Polonius pray Quarto Queen reafon reft Rodorigo Romeo SCENE ſhall ſhe ſpeak tell thee thefe there's theſe thing thofe thou art to-night Tybalt uſe villain whofe wife William Shakespeare yourſelf
Populiarios ištraukos
32 psl. - What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part Belonging to a man. O! be some other name: What's in a name?
190 psl. - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
251 psl. - That I did love the Moor to live with him, My downright violence and storm of fortunes May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdued Even to the very quality of my lord : I saw Othello's visage in his mind ; And to his honours, and his valiant parts, Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
210 psl. - I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come ; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell me one thing. Hor. What's that, my lord? Ham. Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i
114 psl. - ... uncle, My father's brother, but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married.
175 psl. - In the corrupted currents of this world Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself Buys out the law. But 'tis not...
160 psl. - Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
120 psl. - Are most select and generous, chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
66 psl. - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale ; look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops; I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
36 psl. - Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone: And yet no further than a wanton's bird; Who lets it hop a little from her hand, Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves, And with a silk thread plucks it back again, So loving-jealous of his liberty.