The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors. Macbeth. King JohnC. Whittingham, 1826 |
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Página 110
... breath ; Never till then . Enter a Gentleman . Gent . One that gives out himself prince Florizel , Son of Polixenes , with his princess ( she The fairest I have yet beheld ) , desires access To your high presence . Leon . Like to his ...
... breath ; Never till then . Enter a Gentleman . Gent . One that gives out himself prince Florizel , Son of Polixenes , with his princess ( she The fairest I have yet beheld ) , desires access To your high presence . Leon . Like to his ...
Página 119
... breath into his work , would beguile nature of her custom , so per- fectly he is her ape : he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione , that , they say , one would speak to her , and stand in hope of answer : thither with all greediness ...
... breath into his work , would beguile nature of her custom , so per- fectly he is her ape : he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione , that , they say , one would speak to her , and stand in hope of answer : thither with all greediness ...
Página 124
... breath'd ? and that those veins Did verily bear blood ? Pol . Masterly done : The very life seems warm upon her lip . Leon . The fixture of her eye has motion in't5 , As we are mock'd with art 6 . 2 Worked , agitated . 3 The folio reads ...
... breath'd ? and that those veins Did verily bear blood ? Pol . Masterly done : The very life seems warm upon her lip . Leon . The fixture of her eye has motion in't5 , As we are mock'd with art 6 . 2 Worked , agitated . 3 The folio reads ...
Página 152
... breath , or pinch us black and blue . Luc . Why prat'st thou to thyself , and answer'st not ? Dromio , thou drone 21 , thou snail , thou slug , thou sot ! 18 i . e . unfruitful . So in Othello : - " antres vast , and deserts idle . ' 19 ...
... breath , or pinch us black and blue . Luc . Why prat'st thou to thyself , and answer'st not ? Dromio , thou drone 21 , thou snail , thou slug , thou sot ! 18 i . e . unfruitful . So in Othello : - " antres vast , and deserts idle . ' 19 ...
Página 161
... breath of flattery conquers strife . Ant . S. Sweet mistress ( what your name is else , I know not , Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine ) , Less , in your knowledge , and your grace , you show not , Than our earth's wonder ; more ...
... breath of flattery conquers strife . Ant . S. Sweet mistress ( what your name is else , I know not , Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine ) , Less , in your knowledge , and your grace , you show not , Than our earth's wonder ; more ...
Términos y frases comunes
Antigonus Antipholus Arthur Autolycus Banquo Bast Bastard bear Ben Jonson blood Bohemia breath Camillo CLEOMENES 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 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
Pasajes populares
Página 326 - 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.
Página 240 - 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 all the rest: I see thee still.
Página 434 - 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.
Página 396 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Página 73 - Say there be ; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean : so, o'er 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 ~\\ hich does mend nature, — change it rather ; but The art itself is nature.
Página 228 - The effect, and it. Come to .my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor ! Enter MACBETH.
Página 75 - What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever : when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...
Página 271 - Blood hath been shed ere now, i'the olden time, Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear: 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: This is more strange Than such a murder is.
Página 251 - 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.
Página 234 - 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...