The Plays of William Shakespeare : Accurately Printed from the Text of the Corrected Copy Left by the Late George Steevens: With a Series of Engravings, from Original Designs of Henry Fuseli, and a Selection of Explanatory and Historical Notes, from the Most Eminent Commentators; a History of the Stage, a Life of Shakespeare, &c. by Alexander Chalmers, Том 2F.C. and J. Rivington, 1805 |
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Стр. 35
... beat him like a dog . Sir To . What , for being a Puritan ? thy exqui- site reason , dear knight ? Sir And . I have no exquisite reason for't , but I have reason good enough . 9 Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is , or any thing ...
... beat him like a dog . Sir To . What , for being a Puritan ? thy exqui- site reason , dear knight ? Sir And . I have no exquisite reason for't , but I have reason good enough . 9 Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is , or any thing ...
Стр. 40
... beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart : no woman's heart So big , to hold so much ; they lack retention . Alas , their love may be call'd appetite , - No motion of the liver , but the palate , - That suffer surfeit ...
... beating of so strong a passion As love doth give my heart : no woman's heart So big , to hold so much ; they lack retention . Alas , their love may be call'd appetite , - No motion of the liver , but the palate , - That suffer surfeit ...
Стр. 42
... beat the rogue : - Sir To . Peace , I say . Mal . To be count Malvolio ; - Sir To . Ah , rogue ! 4 -nettle of India ? ] The nettle of India is the plant that produces what is called cow - itch , a substance only used for the purpose of ...
... beat the rogue : - Sir To . Peace , I say . Mal . To be count Malvolio ; - Sir To . Ah , rogue ! 4 -nettle of India ? ] The nettle of India is the plant that produces what is called cow - itch , a substance only used for the purpose of ...
Стр. 73
... beat him . Sir To . Do , cuff him soundly , but never draw thy sword . yet . Sir And . An I do not , - - Fab . Come , let's see the event . [ Exit . Sir To . I dare lay any money , ' twill be nothing [ Exeunt . ACT IV . SCENE I. The ...
... beat him . Sir To . Do , cuff him soundly , but never draw thy sword . yet . Sir And . An I do not , - - Fab . Come , let's see the event . [ Exit . Sir To . I dare lay any money , ' twill be nothing [ Exeunt . ACT IV . SCENE I. The ...
Стр. 74
... Beating Sir ANDREW . Sir To . Hold , sir , or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house . Clo . This will I tell my lady straight : I would not be in some of your coats for two - pence . Sir To . Come on , sir ; hold . [ Exit Clown ...
... Beating Sir ANDREW . Sir To . Hold , sir , or I'll throw your dagger o'er the house . Clo . This will I tell my lady straight : I would not be in some of your coats for two - pence . Sir To . Come on , sir ; hold . [ Exit Clown ...
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Barnardine bawd Beat Beatrice Bora BORACHIO brother Claud Claudio Clown cousin dear death Demetrius Dogb Don PEDRO dost thou doth Duke Enter Escal Exeunt Exit eyes fair fairy father fear fool friar gentle gentleman give grace hand hath hear heart heaven Helena Hermia Hero Hippolyta hither honour Illyria Isab ISABELLA lady Leon Leonato look lord Angelo Lucio Lysander madam maid Malvolio Marg marry master master constable MEASURE FOR MEASURE mistress musick never niece night Oberon Olivia Philostrate play Pompey pray prince Prov Provost Puck Pyramus Quin Re-enter SCENE Shakspeare Sir ANDREW Sir Andrew Ague-cheek sir Toby Sir TOBY BELCH sleep soul speak STEEVENS swear sweet tell thank thee there's Theseus thing Thisby thou art thou hast Tita Titania to-morrow tongue troth true What's word youth
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Стр. 326 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Стр. 148 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprison'd in the viewless...
Стр. 129 - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: How would you be, If he, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.
Стр. 239 - Sigh, no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot in sea, and one on shore ; To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, But let them go, And be you blithe and bonny ; Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Стр. 102 - Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do; Not light them for themselves: for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
Стр. 39 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there ! Duke.
Стр. 369 - The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen ; man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
Стр. 5 - 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.
Стр. 41 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Стр. 31 - O mistress mine, where are you roaming ? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.