The Plays and Poems of William Shakspeare: In Ten Volumes: Collated Verbatim with the Most Authentick Copies, and Revised; with the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators; to which are Added, an Essay on the Chronological Order of His Plays; an Essay Relative to Shakspeare and Jonson; a Dissertation on the Three Parts of King Henry VI; an Historical Account of the English Stage; and Notes; by Edmond Malone, Том 4H. Baldwin, 1790 |
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Стр. 6
... poor number fav'd with you3 , Hung on our driving boat , I faw your brother , Moft provident in peril , bind himself ... poor number fav'd with you , ] The old copy has - and thofe poor number . For the prefent emendation I am anfwerable ...
... poor number fav'd with you3 , Hung on our driving boat , I faw your brother , Moft provident in peril , bind himself ... poor number fav'd with you , ] The old copy has - and thofe poor number . For the prefent emendation I am anfwerable ...
Стр. 31
... Poor lady , the were better love a dream . Difguife , I fee , thou art a wickedness , Wherein the pregnant enemy + does much . How eafy is it , for the proper - falfe In women's waxen hearts to fet their forms 5 ! Alas , when they go ...
... Poor lady , the were better love a dream . Difguife , I fee , thou art a wickedness , Wherein the pregnant enemy + does much . How eafy is it , for the proper - falfe In women's waxen hearts to fet their forms 5 ! Alas , when they go ...
Стр. 32
... poor monfter , fond as much on him ; ' And fhe , mistaken , feems to dote on me : What will become of this ? As I am man , My ftate is defperate for my master's love ; As I am woman , now alas the day ! What thriftless fighs fhall poor ...
... poor monfter , fond as much on him ; ' And fhe , mistaken , feems to dote on me : What will become of this ? As I am man , My ftate is defperate for my master's love ; As I am woman , now alas the day ! What thriftless fighs fhall poor ...
Стр. 46
... poor corpfe , where my bones fhall be thrown : A thoufand thoufand fighs to fave , Lay me , 0 , where Sad true - lover ne'er find my grave , To weep there . Duke . And in fad cypress let me be laid ; ] In the books of our author's age ...
... poor corpfe , where my bones fhall be thrown : A thoufand thoufand fighs to fave , Lay me , 0 , where Sad true - lover ne'er find my grave , To weep there . Duke . And in fad cypress let me be laid ; ] In the books of our author's age ...
Стр. 66
... poor are to be proud ! [ Clock ftrikes . If one fhould be a prey , how much the better To fall before the lion , than the wolf ? The clock upbraids me with the wafte of time.- Be not afraid , good youth , I will not have you : And yet ...
... poor are to be proud ! [ Clock ftrikes . If one fhould be a prey , how much the better To fall before the lion , than the wolf ? The clock upbraids me with the wafte of time.- Be not afraid , good youth , I will not have you : And yet ...
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againſt alfo anſwer Autolycus Baft Banquo becauſe blood Camillo caufe Clown Cymbeline death defire doth Duke emendation Enter Exeunt Exit expreffion faid fame father Faulconbridge fcene fear feems fenfe fhall fhew fhould fignifies fince fleep fome fool foul fpeak fpeech fpirit ftand ftill fubfequent fuch fuppofe fure fweet hath heaven Henry Henry IV himſelf honour houſe Illyria itſelf JOHNSON King John lady Leon loft lord Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff mafter MALONE Malvolio means moft moſt muft murder muſt myſelf night o'the obferved occafion old copy paffage perfon play pleaſe prefent prince purpoſe queen Rape of Lucrece reafon ſay ſeems Shakspeare ſhall ſhe Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK Sir Toby ſpeak STEEVENS thane thee thefe Theobald theſe thofe thoſe thou art thought ufed uſed WARBURTON whofe Winter's Tale Witch word
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Стр. 320 - 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?
Стр. 370 - 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.
Стр. 295 - Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty...
Стр. 305 - 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.
Стр. 184 - I would, there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty ; or that youth would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting.
Стр. 309 - Like the poor cat i" the adage ? Macb. Pr'ythee, 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.
Стр. 62 - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is 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. 292 - 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.
Стр. 331 - I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal ; For it must seem their guilt. [Exit. Knocking within. Macb. Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appals me ? What hands are here ? ha ! they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand ? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
Стр. 285 - This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill : cannot be good. If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor: If good, why do I yield to that suggestion...