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 |
Knygos viduje
Rezultatai 1–5 iš 39
331 psl.
... thing it is to wear a crown ; Within whose circuit is Elyfium , And all that poets feign of bliss and joy . Why do we linger thus ? I cannot reft , Until the white rofe that I wear be dy'd Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart ...
... thing it is to wear a crown ; Within whose circuit is Elyfium , And all that poets feign of bliss and joy . Why do we linger thus ? I cannot reft , Until the white rofe that I wear be dy'd Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart ...
345 psl.
... things fith then befain . After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought , Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp , Tidings as fwiftly as the poft could run , Were brought me of your lofs and his depart . I then in London , keeper ...
... things fith then befain . After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought , Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp , Tidings as fwiftly as the poft could run , Were brought me of your lofs and his depart . I then in London , keeper ...
349 psl.
... own , and leave thine own with him . K. HEN . Full well hath Clifford plaid the orator , Inferring arguments of mighty force . But Clifford , tell me , didft thou never hear , That things ill got had ever bad fuccefs ! And KING HENRY VI ...
... own , and leave thine own with him . K. HEN . Full well hath Clifford plaid the orator , Inferring arguments of mighty force . But Clifford , tell me , didft thou never hear , That things ill got had ever bad fuccefs ! And KING HENRY VI ...
350 psl.
William Shakespeare Samuel Johnson. That things ill got had ever bad fuccefs ! And happy always was it for that son , Whole father for his hoarding went to hell ? I'll leave my fon my virtuous deeds behind ; And ' would , my father had ...
William Shakespeare Samuel Johnson. That things ill got had ever bad fuccefs ! And happy always was it for that son , Whole father for his hoarding went to hell ? I'll leave my fon my virtuous deeds behind ; And ' would , my father had ...
352 psl.
... ! For York in juftice puts his armour on . PRINCE . If that be right , which Warwick fays is right , There is no wrong , but every thing is right . RICH . Whoever got thee , there thy mother stands 352 THE THIRD PART OF.
... ! For York in juftice puts his armour on . PRINCE . If that be right , which Warwick fays is right , There is no wrong , but every thing is right . RICH . Whoever got thee , there thy mother stands 352 THE THIRD PART OF.
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...