The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected: with Notes, Explanatory and Critical:H. Lintott, 1740 |
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... count , My fon's no dearer . Ber . Thank your Majesty . [ Flourish . Exeunt . SCENE changes to the Countess's at Roufillon . Count . Enter Countess , Steward and Clown . I Will now hear ; what fay you of this gentle- woman ? Stew ...
... count , My fon's no dearer . Ber . Thank your Majesty . [ Flourish . Exeunt . SCENE changes to the Countess's at Roufillon . Count . Enter Countess , Steward and Clown . I Will now hear ; what fay you of this gentle- woman ? Stew ...
15 psl.
... Count . Wilt thou needs be a beggar ? Clo . I do beg your good will in this cafe . Count . In what cafe ? Clo . In Isbel's cafe , and mine own ; service is no he- ritage , and , I think , I fhall never have the bleffing of God , ' till ...
... Count . Wilt thou needs be a beggar ? Clo . I do beg your good will in this cafe . Count . In what cafe ? Clo . In Isbel's cafe , and mine own ; service is no he- ritage , and , I think , I fhall never have the bleffing of God , ' till ...
16 psl.
... Count . Get you gone , Sir , I'll talk with you more anon . Sterv . May it pleafe you , Madam , that he bid Helen come to you ; of her I am to fpeak . Count . Sirrah , tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her ; Helen I mean . 66 Clo ...
... Count . Get you gone , Sir , I'll talk with you more anon . Sterv . May it pleafe you , Madam , that he bid Helen come to you ; of her I am to fpeak . Count . Sirrah , tell my gentlewoman I would speak with her ; Helen I mean . 66 Clo ...
17 psl.
... Count . What , one good in ten ? You corrupt the song , Sirrah . Clo . One good woman in ten , Madam , which is a pu- rifying o'th ' fong : ' would , God would ferve the world fo all the year ! we'd find no fault with the tythe - woman ...
... Count . What , one good in ten ? You corrupt the song , Sirrah . Clo . One good woman in ten , Madam , which is a pu- rifying o'th ' fong : ' would , God would ferve the world fo all the year ! we'd find no fault with the tythe - woman ...
18 psl.
... Count . You have difcharg'd this honeftly , keep it to yourfelf ; many likelihoods inform'd me of this before , which hung fo tottering in the balance , that I could neither believe nor misdoubt ; pray you , leave me ; stall this in ...
... Count . You have difcharg'd this honeftly , keep it to yourfelf ; many likelihoods inform'd me of this before , which hung fo tottering in the balance , that I could neither believe nor misdoubt ; pray you , leave me ; stall this in ...
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againſt anſwer Antigonus Antipholis blood Bohemia Camillo Conft Count defire doft thou doth Dromio Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes faid father Faulc Faulconbridge feems felf felves fent ferve fhall fhame fhew fhould fifter fince firft fome fool foul fpeak France ftand ftill ftir ftrange fuch fure fwear fweet give hand hath heart heav'n himſelf honour houſe i'th Illyria John King King John knave Lady loft Lord lyes Madam mafter Malvolio Marry Melun miſtreſs moft moſt muft muſt myſelf night o'th pleaſe pray prefent purpoſe reaſon ſay SCENE changes ſhall ſhe Shep Sicilia Sir Andrew Ague-cheek Sir Toby ſpeak tell thee thefe there's theſe thine thofe thoſe thou art thouſand underſtand uſe whofe wife worfe
Populiarios ištraukos
70 psl. - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
137 psl. - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
384 psl. - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
295 psl. - But nature makes that mean; so over that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race. This is an art Which does mend nature change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
384 psl. - There's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
283 psl. - I would, there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty ; or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.
101 psl. - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
419 psl. - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.