The Works of Shakespeare: in Eight Volumes, 8 tomasH. Woodfall, 1767 |
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10 psl.
... Exeunt Prince and Capulet , & c . La . Mon. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach ; Speak , nephew , were you by , when it began ? Ben . Here were the fervants of your adversary , And yours , clofe fighting , ere I did approach ;, I ...
... Exeunt Prince and Capulet , & c . La . Mon. Who fet this ancient quarrel new abroach ; Speak , nephew , were you by , when it began ? Ben . Here were the fervants of your adversary , And yours , clofe fighting , ere I did approach ;, I ...
12 psl.
... Exeunt.- Ben . Good morrow , cousin .. Rom . Is the day so young ? Ben . But new ftruck nine .. Rom . Ah me , fad hours feem long ! Was that my father that went hence so fast ? ( 4 ) As is the bud , bit with an envious worm , Ere be can ...
... Exeunt.- Ben . Good morrow , cousin .. Rom . Is the day so young ? Ben . But new ftruck nine .. Rom . Ah me , fad hours feem long ! Was that my father that went hence so fast ? ( 4 ) As is the bud , bit with an envious worm , Ere be can ...
15 psl.
... Exeunt Enter Capulet , Paris , and Servant . Cap . And Montague is bound as well as : 1 , .. In penalty alike ; and ' tis not hard For men fo old as we to keep the peace . Par . Of honourable reck'ning are you both , And , pity ' tis ...
... Exeunt Enter Capulet , Paris , and Servant . Cap . And Montague is bound as well as : 1 , .. In penalty alike ; and ' tis not hard For men fo old as we to keep the peace . Par . Of honourable reck'ning are you both , And , pity ' tis ...
16 psl.
... Exeunt Capulet and Paris . Serv . Find them out , whose names are written here ? -It is written , that the Shoemaker should meddle with his yard , and the Taylor with his laft , the Fisher with his pencil , and the Painter with his nets ...
... Exeunt Capulet and Paris . Serv . Find them out , whose names are written here ? -It is written , that the Shoemaker should meddle with his yard , and the Taylor with his laft , the Fisher with his pencil , and the Painter with his nets ...
18 psl.
... Exeunt . SCENE changes to Capulet's Houfe . Enter Lady Capulet , and Nurse . Ea . Cap . NURSE , where's my daughter ? call her to me . Nurfe . Now ( by my maiden - head , at twelve years old ) : I ' bade her come ; what , lamb , -what ...
... Exeunt . SCENE changes to Capulet's Houfe . Enter Lady Capulet , and Nurse . Ea . Cap . NURSE , where's my daughter ? call her to me . Nurfe . Now ( by my maiden - head , at twelve years old ) : I ' bade her come ; what , lamb , -what ...
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againſt becauſe Benvolio Brabantio Caffio call'd Capulet Clown Cyprus dead death Defdemona Desdemona doft doth Duke Emil Enter ev'n Exeunt Exit eyes faid fame father fatire feems feen fenfe fhall fhew fhould flain fleep fome Fortinbras foul fpeak fpirit Friar Lawrence ftand ftill fuch fure fweet fword gentleman give Hamlet hath heart heav'n himſelf honeft Horatio houſe huſband Iago is't itſelf Juliet King lady Laer Laertes lago loft Lord married Mercutio moft Moor moſt muft muſt myſelf night Nurfe Ophelia Othello paffage Perfon play pleaſe Poet Polonius pray purpoſe Quarto Queen reafon Rodorigo Romeo ſay Shakespeare ſhall ſhe ſpeak tell thee thefe there's theſe thing thofe thou art to-night Tybalt uſe villain whofe wife William Shakespeare word yourſelf
Populiarios ištraukos
231 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 ?
17 psl. - Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
123 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...
177 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.
185 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?
221 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
160 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.
261 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.
31 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.
26 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.