The dramatic works of William Shakspeare, with notes original and selected by S.W. Singer, and a life of the poet by C. Symmons, 19 dalis,4 tomas |
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38 psl.
... Leave me solely2 : go , See how he fares . [ Exit Attend . ] - Fye , fye ! no thought of him ; - The very thought of my revenges that way Recoil upon me : in himself too mighty ; And in his parties , his alliance , Let him be , Until ...
... Leave me solely2 : go , See how he fares . [ Exit Attend . ] - Fye , fye ! no thought of him ; - The very thought of my revenges that way Recoil upon me : in himself too mighty ; And in his parties , his alliance , Let him be , Until ...
42 psl.
... leave yourself Hardly one subject . Leon . Once more , take her hence . Paul . A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more . 11 A callat is a trull . 12 No yellow , ' the colour of jealousy , 13 Lozel , a worthless fellow ; one ...
... leave yourself Hardly one subject . Leon . Once more , take her hence . Paul . A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more . 11 A callat is a trull . 12 No yellow , ' the colour of jealousy , 13 Lozel , a worthless fellow ; one ...
45 psl.
... leave it , Without more mercy , to its own protection , And favour of the climate . As by strange fortune It came to us , I do in justice charge thee , On thy soul's peril , and thy body's torture , - That thou commend it strangely to ...
... leave it , Without more mercy , to its own protection , And favour of the climate . As by strange fortune It came to us , I do in justice charge thee , On thy soul's peril , and thy body's torture , - That thou commend it strangely to ...
46 psl.
... Leave me ; [ Exeunt . ACT III . SCENE I. The same . A Street in some Town . Enter CLEOMENES and DION . Cleo . The climate's delicate ; the air most sweet ; Fertile the isle1 ; the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears . Dion ...
... Leave me ; [ Exeunt . ACT III . SCENE I. The same . A Street in some Town . Enter CLEOMENES and DION . Cleo . The climate's delicate ; the air most sweet ; Fertile the isle1 ; the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears . Dion ...
58 psl.
... leave it crying ; and , for the babe Is counted lost for ever , Perdita , I pr'ythee , call't ; for this ungentle business , Put on thee by my lord , thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more : and so , with shrieks , She melted into ...
... leave it crying ; and , for the babe Is counted lost for ever , Perdita , I pr'ythee , call't ; for this ungentle business , Put on thee by my lord , thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more : and so , with shrieks , She melted into ...
Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
Antigonus Antipholus Arthur Autolycus Banquo Bast Bastard bear blood Bohemia breath Camillo Comedy of Errors Const death deed dost doth Dromio Duke Duncan England Enter Ephesus Exeunt Exit eyes father Faulconbridge fear Fleance France give grief hand hath hear heart heaven Hecate Hermione Holinshed honour Hubert husband Julius Cæsar King Henry King Henry IV King John Lady LADY MACBETH Leon Leontes look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff Malone master means mistress murder night o'er old copy reads old play passage Paul Paulina peace Polixenes pray prince queen Rosse SCENE Shakspeare Shakspeare's Shep Sicilia sleep soul speak Steevens swear sweet tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought tongue villain wife Winter's Tale Witch word
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234 psl. - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly : if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'd jump the life to come.
243 psl. - Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep ; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings ; and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.
242 psl. - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth...
227 psl. - For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires ! Let not light see my black and deep desires : The eye wink at the hand ! yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
237 psl. - Like the poor cat i' the adage? MACB. Prithee, peace. I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. LADY M. What beast was't, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both. They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you.
236 psl. - Wherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' Like the poor cat i
273 psl. - The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.
436 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.
253 psl. - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys : renown, and grace, is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.