The plays of Shakespeare, from the text of S. Johnson, with the prefaces, notes &c. of Rowe, Pope and many other critics. 6 vols. [in 12 pt. Followed by] Shakespeare's poems, 8 tomas |
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Rezultatai 1–5 iš 29
325 psl.
... tear the crown from the ufurper's head . EDW . Sweet father , do fo ; fet it on your head . MONT . Good brother , as thou lov'ft and honour'ft arms , Let's fight it out , and not ftand cavilling thus . RICH . Sound drums and trumpets ...
... tear the crown from the ufurper's head . EDW . Sweet father , do fo ; fet it on your head . MONT . Good brother , as thou lov'ft and honour'ft arms , Let's fight it out , and not ftand cavilling thus . RICH . Sound drums and trumpets ...
338 psl.
... tear can fall for Rutland's death ? Why art thou patient , man ? thou shouldst be mad ; And I , to make thee mad , do mock thee thus : Stamp , rave , and fret , that I may fing and dance . Thou wouldst be fee'd , I fee , to make me ...
... tear can fall for Rutland's death ? Why art thou patient , man ? thou shouldst be mad ; And I , to make thee mad , do mock thee thus : Stamp , rave , and fret , that I may fing and dance . Thou wouldst be fee'd , I fee , to make me ...
340 psl.
... tears are my fweet Rutland's obfequies ; And ev'ry drop cries vengeance for his death , " Gainst thee , fell Clifford , and thee , falfe French woman . NORTH . Befhrew me , but his paffions move me so ; That hardly can I check mine eyes ...
... tears are my fweet Rutland's obfequies ; And ev'ry drop cries vengeance for his death , " Gainst thee , fell Clifford , and thee , falfe French woman . NORTH . Befhrew me , but his paffions move me so ; That hardly can I check mine eyes ...
341 psl.
... tears . CLIF . Here's for my oath , here's for my father's death . [ Stabbing him . QUEEN . And here's to right our gentle - hearted king . [ Stabs him . YORK . Open the gate of mercy , gracious God ! My foul flies through these wounds ...
... tears . CLIF . Here's for my oath , here's for my father's death . [ Stabbing him . QUEEN . And here's to right our gentle - hearted king . [ Stabs him . YORK . Open the gate of mercy , gracious God ! My foul flies through these wounds ...
344 psl.
... tears would quench . Το weep is to make lefs the depth of grief : Tears then for babes ; blows and revenge for me ! Richard , I bear thy name ; I'll venge thy death ; Or die renowned by attempting it . Epw . His name that valiant duke ...
... tears would quench . Το weep is to make lefs the depth of grief : Tears then for babes ; blows and revenge for me ! Richard , I bear thy name ; I'll venge thy death ; Or die renowned by attempting it . Epw . His name that valiant duke ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
againſt ANNE anſwer Becauſe blood brother BUCK Buckingham Catesby cauſe CLAR Clarence CLIF Clifford crown curfe death devil doth duke of York DUTCH earl Enter king Exeunt Exit faid father fear fhall firſt flain foldiers fome forrow foul fovereign friends ftand fubject fuch fweet fword gentle Glo'fter Glouceſter grace gracious GRAY HAST Haſtings hath heart heav'n Henry VI himſelf houſe huſband Ibid JOHNS king Edward Lancaſter laſt live lord Haftings Lord Stanley madam majeſty Montague moſt muſt myſelf noble paffage perfon Plantagenet pleaſe pleaſure prince prince of Wales quarto QUEEN Ratcliff reafon reft reſt RICH Richard Richard III Richmond ſay SCENE ſeem Shakeſpeare ſhall ſhe ſhould Somerſet ſpeak ſtand Stanley ſtate ſtay ſtill ſweet tell thee thefe THEOB theſe thine thoſe thou thouſand Unleſs unto uſe vice WARB Warwick Whoſe William Brandon words
Populiarios ištraukos
422 psl. - Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity. And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover To entertain these fair well-spoken days, . I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
353 psl. - O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
537 psl. - Give me another horse! bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream. O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What! do I fear myself? there's none else by Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
354 psl. - So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will...
448 psl. - Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; Who cried aloud, ' What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence...
416 psl. - I have no brother, I am like no brother, And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me! I am myself alone.— Clarence, beware!
422 psl. - That dogs bark at me as I halt by them; Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time...