The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text of the corrected copies left by G. Steevens and E. Malone, with a selection of notes from the most eminent commentors by A. Chalmers, 8 tomas |
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Rezultatai 6–10 iš 100
143 psl.
... . What , drawn , and talk of peace ? I hate the word , As I hate hell , all Montagues , and thee : Have at thee , coward . [ They fight . Enter several Partizans of both Houses , who join the SCENE I. 143 ROMEO AND JULIET .
... . What , drawn , and talk of peace ? I hate the word , As I hate hell , all Montagues , and thee : Have at thee , coward . [ They fight . Enter several Partizans of both Houses , who join the SCENE I. 143 ROMEO AND JULIET .
144 psl.
... was the usual exclamation . 5 mis - temperd weapons - ] are angry weapons . And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming 144 ACT I. ROMEO AND JULIET . Enter several Partizans of both Houses, who join the ...
... was the usual exclamation . 5 mis - temperd weapons - ] are angry weapons . And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming 144 ACT I. ROMEO AND JULIET . Enter several Partizans of both Houses, who join the ...
146 psl.
... Mon. I would , thou wert so happy by thy stay , To hear true shrift.- Come , madam , let's away . [ Exeunt MONTAGUE and Lady . + " to the same . " MALONE . Ben . Good morrow , cousin . Rom . Is 146 ACT I. ROMEO AND JULIET .
... Mon. I would , thou wert so happy by thy stay , To hear true shrift.- Come , madam , let's away . [ Exeunt MONTAGUE and Lady . + " to the same . " MALONE . Ben . Good morrow , cousin . Rom . Is 146 ACT I. ROMEO AND JULIET .
147 psl.
... to wound . 7 Why , such is love's transgression . ] Such is the consequence of unskilful and mistaken kindness . Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ; L 2 SCENE I. 147 ROMEO AND JULIET . Ben. Good morrow, cousin. ...
... to wound . 7 Why , such is love's transgression . ] Such is the consequence of unskilful and mistaken kindness . Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ; L 2 SCENE I. 147 ROMEO AND JULIET . Ben. Good morrow, cousin. ...
148 psl.
... never possessed any when she was young . Her declaration that she would continue unmarried , increases the probability of the present supposition . STEEVENS . She will not stay the siege of loving terms , 148 ACT I. ROMEO AND JULIET .
... never possessed any when she was young . Her declaration that she would continue unmarried , increases the probability of the present supposition . STEEVENS . She will not stay the siege of loving terms , 148 ACT I. ROMEO AND JULIET .
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
ancient art thou BENVOLIO better blood Brabantio CAPULET Cassio Cordelia Corn Cyprus daughter dead dear death Denmark Desdemona dost thou doth Duke Edmund Emil EMILIA Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair Farewell father fear fool Fortinbras friar Gent gentleman give Gloster GONERIL GUILDENSTERN Hamlet hath hear heart heaven hither honest honour Horatio i'the Iago is't JOHNSON Juliet Kent king knave lady Laer Laertes Lear look lord madam MALONE Mantua marry matter means Mercutio Michael Cassio Moor murder never night noble Nurse o'er Ophelia Othello play poison'd POLONIUS poor Pr'ythee pray Queen Roderigo Romeo SCENE Shakspeare signifies soul speak sweet sword tell thee there's thine thing thou art thou hast thought to-night Tybalt villain wife word
Populiarios ištraukos
399 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.
325 psl. - O, there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, that, neither having the 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.
314 psl. - peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd ; 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...
112 psl. - And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind. Methinks I should know you and know this man; Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant What place this is, and all the skill I have Remembers not these garments; nor I know not Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me; For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia.
286 psl. - Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there; And.
169 psl. - But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks! It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she...
339 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 business as the bitter day Would quake to look on.
118 psl. - I'll kneel down And ask of thee forgiveness: so we'll live, And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, — Who loses and who wins; who's in, who's out; — And take...
306 psl. - ... this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors.
386 psl. - Alas, poor Yorick! — I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy, he hath 'borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that 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?