The Works: Of Shakespear. In which the Beauties Observed by Pope, Warburton, and Dodd, are Pointed Out. Together with the Author's Life; a Glossary; Copious Indexes; and a List of the Various Readings. In Eight Volumes, Том 3A. Donaldson, and sold at his shop, London; and at Edinburgh, 1771 |
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Стр. 6
... hour ; to fit , and draw His arched brows , his hawking eye , his curls , In our heart's table ; heart too capable Of every line and trick of his fweet favour - But now he's gone , and my idolatrous fancy Muft fanctify his relies . Who ...
... hour ; to fit , and draw His arched brows , his hawking eye , his curls , In our heart's table ; heart too capable Of every line and trick of his fweet favour - But now he's gone , and my idolatrous fancy Muft fanctify his relies . Who ...
Стр. 18
... hour . Count . Doft thou believe't ? Hel . Ay , Madam , knowingly . Gount . Why , Helen , thou shalt have my leave and love ; Means and attendants ; and my loving greetings To thofe of mine in court . I'll ftay at home , And pray God's ...
... hour . Count . Doft thou believe't ? Hel . Ay , Madam , knowingly . Gount . Why , Helen , thou shalt have my leave and love ; Means and attendants ; and my loving greetings To thofe of mine in court . I'll ftay at home , And pray God's ...
Стр. 33
... hours younger , I'd beat thee , Methinks thou art a general offence , and every man fhould beat thee . I think thou waft created for men to breathe themselves upon thee . Par . This is hard and undeserved meafure , my Lord . Laf . Go to ...
... hours younger , I'd beat thee , Methinks thou art a general offence , and every man fhould beat thee . I think thou waft created for men to breathe themselves upon thee . Par . This is hard and undeserved meafure , my Lord . Laf . Go to ...
Стр. 36
... hour o'erflow with joy , And pleasure drown the brim . Hel . What his will elfe ? Par . That you will take your inftant leave o ' th ' King , And make this hafte as your own good proceeding ; Strengthen'd with what apology you think May ...
... hour o'erflow with joy , And pleasure drown the brim . Hel . What his will elfe ? Par . That you will take your inftant leave o ' th ' King , And make this hafte as your own good proceeding ; Strengthen'd with what apology you think May ...
Стр. 53
... hours in a fleep , and then to return and swear the lyes he forges . : Enter Parolles . Par . Ten o'clock ; within thefe three hours ' twill be time enough to go home . What fhall I fay time Sc . r . A A 53 . A C T IV. ...
... hours in a fleep , and then to return and swear the lyes he forges . : Enter Parolles . Par . Ten o'clock ; within thefe three hours ' twill be time enough to go home . What fhall I fay time Sc . r . A A 53 . A C T IV. ...
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Стр. 336 - 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.
Стр. 57 - 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.
Стр. 252 - This is an art Which does mend nature — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Стр. 362 - 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.
Стр. 64 - I'll be no more; But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft As captain shall : simply the thing I am Shall make me live.
Стр. 116 - I might say, element ; but the word is over-worn. [Exit, Via. This fellow's 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.
Стр. 108 - A blank, my lord. She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek.