The Works of Shakespeare: in Eight Volumes, 8 tomasH. Woodfall, 1767 |
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13 psl.
... me fo , you do me wrong . Rom . Tut ! I have lost myself , I am not here ; This is not Romeo , he's some other where . Ben . Tell me in sadness , who she is you love ? Rom . Rom . What , shall I groan and tell thee ROMEO and JULIET .. 13 :
... me fo , you do me wrong . Rom . Tut ! I have lost myself , I am not here ; This is not Romeo , he's some other where . Ben . Tell me in sadness , who she is you love ? Rom . Rom . What , shall I groan and tell thee ROMEO and JULIET .. 13 :
14 psl.
... she'll not be hit With Cupia's arrow ; she hath Dian's wit : And , in strong proof of chastity well arm'd , From love's weak childish bow , the lives unharm'd .. She will not stay the siege of loving terms , Nor ' bide th ' encounter ...
... she'll not be hit With Cupia's arrow ; she hath Dian's wit : And , in strong proof of chastity well arm'd , From love's weak childish bow , the lives unharm'd .. She will not stay the siege of loving terms , Nor ' bide th ' encounter ...
15 psl.
... she are happy mothers made . Cap . And too foon marr'd are those so early made : The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but the .. She is the hopeful lady of my earth : But woo her , gentle Paris , get her heart , My will to her ...
... she are happy mothers made . Cap . And too foon marr'd are those so early made : The earth hath swallowed all my hopes but the .. She is the hopeful lady of my earth : But woo her , gentle Paris , get her heart , My will to her ...
18 psl.
... She's not fourteen . Nurje . I'll lay fourteen of my teeth , ( and yet to my teen be it spoken , I have but four ; ) she's not fourteen ; how long is it now to Lammas - tide ? La . Cap . A fortnight and odd days . Nurse . Even or odd ...
... She's not fourteen . Nurje . I'll lay fourteen of my teeth , ( and yet to my teen be it spoken , I have but four ; ) she's not fourteen ; how long is it now to Lammas - tide ? La . Cap . A fortnight and odd days . Nurse . Even or odd ...
19 psl.
... she was too good for me . But as - I faid , on Lammas - eve at night shall the be fourteen , that thall she , marry , I remember it well . ' Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years , and she was wean'd , I never shall forget it , of ...
... she was too good for me . But as - I faid , on Lammas - eve at night shall the be fourteen , that thall she , marry , I remember it well . ' Tis fince the earthquake now eleven years , and she was wean'd , I never shall forget it , of ...
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almoſt anſwer becauſe Benvolio beſt Brabantio buſineſs Caffio call'd Capulet cauſe cloſe Clown courſe Cyprus dead death Desdemona doſt doth elſe Emil Enter ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes falſe father fatire firſt flain fleep fome foul Friar Lawrence fuch gentlemen give Hamlet haſte hath heart heav'n honeft Horatio houſe Iago is't itſelf Juliet King lady Laer Laertes lago laſt Lord married Mercutio miſtreſs Moor moſt muſt night Nurse obſerve Othello paſſage pleaſe Poet poiſon Polonius pray preſent purpoſe Quarto Queen queſtion reaſon reſt Rodorigo Romeo ſame ſay ſee ſeems ſeen ſenſe ſet Shakespeare ſhall ſhe ſhew ſhould ſome ſpeak ſpeech ſpirit ſtand ſtate ſtay ſtill ſuch ſweet ſword tell thee there's theſe thoſe thou art to-night Tybalt uſe villain whoſe wife William Shakespeare word
Populiarios ištraukos
235 psl. - tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now ; if it be not now, yet it will come : the readiness is all : Since no man, of aught he leaves, knows, what is't to leave betimes ?
21 psl. - Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
127 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...
181 psl. - Tis now the very witching time of night When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
189 psl. - Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, And batten on this moor? Ha! have you eyes? You cannot call it love, for at your age The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waits upon the judgment; and what judgment Would step from this to this?
225 psl. - I have kissed 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
164 psl. - As made the things more rich; their perfume lost, Take these again; for to the noble mind Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
265 psl. - Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself.
35 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.
30 psl. - Would through the airy region stream so bright, That birds would sing, and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek ! Jul.