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8 psl.
He hath arm'd our answer ; And Florence is deny'd , before he comes : Yet , for our gentlemen that mean to fee The Tuscan fervice , freely have they leave To ftand on either part . 2 Lord . It may well ferve A nursery to our gentry ...
He hath arm'd our answer ; And Florence is deny'd , before he comes : Yet , for our gentlemen that mean to fee The Tuscan fervice , freely have they leave To ftand on either part . 2 Lord . It may well ferve A nursery to our gentry ...
11 psl.
Sirrah , tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her ; Helen I mean . Clo . Was this fair face the caufe , quoth she , " Why the Grecians facked Troy ? [ Singing . Fond done , fond done ; for Paris , he , " Was this King Priam's joy .
Sirrah , tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her ; Helen I mean . Clo . Was this fair face the caufe , quoth she , " Why the Grecians facked Troy ? [ Singing . Fond done , fond done ; for Paris , he , " Was this King Priam's joy .
14 psl.
Yes , Helen , you might be my daughter - in - law ; God fhield you mean it not , daughter and mother So ftrive upon your pulfe . What ! pale again ? My fear hath catch'd your fondness.- Now I fee The mystery of your loneliness ...
Yes , Helen , you might be my daughter - in - law ; God fhield you mean it not , daughter and mother So ftrive upon your pulfe . What ! pale again ? My fear hath catch'd your fondness.- Now I fee The mystery of your loneliness ...
16 psl.
Why , Helen , thou shalt have my leave and love ; Means and attendants ; and my loving greetings To thofe of mine in court . I'll stay at home , And pray God's bleffing into thy attempt : Begone , to - morrow ; and be fure of this ...
Why , Helen , thou shalt have my leave and love ; Means and attendants ; and my loving greetings To thofe of mine in court . I'll stay at home , And pray God's bleffing into thy attempt : Begone , to - morrow ; and be fure of this ...
38 psl.
Let me fee what he writes , and when he means [ Reads the letter . Clo . I have no mind to Ifbel , fince I was at court . Our old ling , and our Ifbels o ' th ' country , are nothing like your old ling , and your Ifbel's o ' th ' court ...
Let me fee what he writes , and when he means [ Reads the letter . Clo . I have no mind to Ifbel , fince I was at court . Our old ling , and our Ifbels o ' th ' country , are nothing like your old ling , and your Ifbel's o ' th ' court ...
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The Works Of Shakespear. In which the Beauties Observed by Pope, Warburton ... William Shakespeare Visos knygos peržiūra - 1769 |
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
bear better blood bring brother Changes comes Count court daughter dear death doth Dromio Duke ears Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith father fear fellow fhall fhould fince fome fool fortune foul fpeak France ftand fuch fweet give gone hand hath hear heart heav'n hold honour hope hour I'll John keep King Lady leave live look Lord Madam mafter marry mean moft mother muft muſt nature never Paul peace Phil poor pray Prince Queen ring SCENE ſhall ſpeak tell thanks thee thefe there's theſe thine thing thou art thought tongue true whofe wife young
Populiarios ištraukos
324 psl. - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
248 psl. - By bud of nobler race : this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.
324 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.
330 psl. - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
57 psl. - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.