The Works of Shakespeare in Seven Volumes, 7 tomas |
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48 psl.
What say you , Sir ? I am sent for speaking to you , Twelfth - night . How in my Words foever she be fhent , To give them Seals never my Soul confent . Hamlet . 2 Ulys . Ulys . No , you fee , he is his 48 TROILU S and CRESSIDA .
What say you , Sir ? I am sent for speaking to you , Twelfth - night . How in my Words foever she be fhent , To give them Seals never my Soul confent . Hamlet . 2 Ulys . Ulys . No , you fee , he is his 48 TROILU S and CRESSIDA .
58 psl.
No , Pandarus : I stalk about her door , Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage . O , be thou my Cbaron , And give me swift transportance to those fields , Where I may wallow in the lilly beds Propos'd for the ...
No , Pandarus : I stalk about her door , Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks Staying for waftage . O , be thou my Cbaron , And give me swift transportance to those fields , Where I may wallow in the lilly beds Propos'd for the ...
62 psl.
... your filence ( Cunning in dumbness ) from my weakness draws My very soul of counsel . Stop my mouth . Troi . And shall , albeit sweet musick issues thence , [ Kifling . Pan . Pretty , i'faith . Cre .
... your filence ( Cunning in dumbness ) from my weakness draws My very soul of counsel . Stop my mouth . Troi . And shall , albeit sweet musick issues thence , [ Kifling . Pan . Pretty , i'faith . Cre .
71 psl.
... dumb cradles : There is a mystery ( with which relation Durst never meddle ) in the Soul of State ; Which hath an operation more divine , 3 1 4 ( 29 ) And go to dust , that is a little gilt , More Laud than Gilt o'er - dufted .
... dumb cradles : There is a mystery ( with which relation Durst never meddle ) in the Soul of State ; Which hath an operation more divine , 3 1 4 ( 29 ) And go to dust , that is a little gilt , More Laud than Gilt o'er - dufted .
77 psl.
And tell me , noble Diomede ; tell me true , Ev'n in the soul of good found fellowship , Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen most ? My self , or Menelaus ? Dio . Both alike . He merits well to have her , that doth seek her ...
And tell me , noble Diomede ; tell me true , Ev'n in the soul of good found fellowship , Who in your thoughts merits fair Helen most ? My self , or Menelaus ? Dio . Both alike . He merits well to have her , that doth seek her ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Achilles Æmil againſt Ajax Author bear better blood bring changes Clown comes dead dear death doth earth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall Farewel father fear firſt follow give gone Hamlet hand hath head hear heart heav'n Hector himſelf hold honour I'll Iago keep King lady lago leave light live look lord marry matter mean mind Moor moſt mother muſt Nature never night noble Nurſe once Othello Paris Play Poet poor Pope pray Prince Queen reaſon Romeo ſay SCENE ſee ſeems ſelf ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſoul ſpeak ſtand ſuch ſweet tell thee Ther there's theſe thing thoſe thou thought Troi Troilus true uſe whoſe wife young
Populiarios ištraukos
70 psl. - Keeps honour bright : To have done, is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery.
279 psl. - Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit? and all for nothing! For Hecuba! What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her!
249 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...
290 psl. - ... accent of Christians, nor the gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
325 psl. - What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and god-like reason To fust in us unus'd.
168 psl. - These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die ! like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.
441 psl. - Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow {Kneels, I here engage my words.
245 psl. - The king doth wake to-night, and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels ; And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge.
152 psl. - What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, And for thy. name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
272 psl. - In form and moving how express and admirable ! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me, no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling you seem to say so.