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. 8
... master have a thousand loves , A mother , and a mistress , and a friend * ; I know not what he fhall - God fend him well ! - The court's a learning place - and he is one- Par . What one , i ' faith ? Hel . That I wifh well - tis pity ...
... master have a thousand loves , A mother , and a mistress , and a friend * ; I know not what he fhall - God fend him well ! - The court's a learning place - and he is one- Par . What one , i ' faith ? Hel . That I wifh well - tis pity ...
Стр. 31
... word with you . Par . Your pleafure , Sir ? Laf . Your lord and mafter did well to make his re- cantation . Par . Recantation ? -my lord ? my master ? Laf . 1 Laf . Ay , is it not a language Sc . 7. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . 31.
... word with you . Par . Your pleafure , Sir ? Laf . Your lord and mafter did well to make his re- cantation . Par . Recantation ? -my lord ? my master ? Laf . 1 Laf . Ay , is it not a language Sc . 7. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . 31.
Стр. 32
... master is of another ftvle .. ** Pár . You are too old , Sir ; let it fatisfy you , you are too old Laf . I must tell thee , firrah , I write man ; to which title age cannot bring thee . Par . What I dare too well do , I dare not do ...
... master is of another ftvle .. ** Pár . You are too old , Sir ; let it fatisfy you , you are too old Laf . I must tell thee , firrah , I write man ; to which title age cannot bring thee . Par . What I dare too well do , I dare not do ...
Стр. 33
... master . Laf . Who ? God ? Par . Ay , Sir . Why doft doft make thou wert Laf . The devil it is that's thy mafter . thou garter up thy arms o ' this fathion ? hofe of thy fleeves ? do other fervants fo ? best fet thy lower part where thy ...
... master . Laf . Who ? God ? Par . Ay , Sir . Why doft doft make thou wert Laf . The devil it is that's thy mafter . thou garter up thy arms o ' this fathion ? hofe of thy fleeves ? do other fervants fo ? best fet thy lower part where thy ...
Стр. 99
... master's flame , With fuch a fuff'ring , fuch a deadly life , In your denial I would find no fenfe : I would not underftend it . Oli . Why , what would you do ? Vio . Make me a willow cabbin at your gate , And call upon my foul within ...
... master's flame , With fuch a fuff'ring , fuch a deadly life , In your denial I would find no fenfe : I would not underftend it . Oli . Why , what would you do ? Vio . Make me a willow cabbin at your gate , And call upon my foul within ...
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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.