The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected: with Notes, Explanatory and Critical: |
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Стр. 22
There's something in't More than my father's skill , ( which was the great't Of his
Profession , ) that his good receipt Shall for my legacy be fanctified By th ' luckiest
stars in heav'n ; and , would your honour But give me leave to try success , I'd ...
There's something in't More than my father's skill , ( which was the great't Of his
Profession , ) that his good receipt Shall for my legacy be fanctified By th ' luckiest
stars in heav'n ; and , would your honour But give me leave to try success , I'd ...
Стр. 128
Give me now leave to leave thee . Clo . Now the melancholy God protect thee ,
and the taylor make thy doublet of changeable taffata , for thy mind is a very opal !
I would have men of such constancy put to sea , that their bufiness might be ...
Give me now leave to leave thee . Clo . Now the melancholy God protect thee ,
and the taylor make thy doublet of changeable taffata , for thy mind is a very opal !
I would have men of such constancy put to sea , that their bufiness might be ...
Стр. 139
Let the garden door be shut , and leave me to my hearing [ Exeunt Sir Toby , Sir
Andrew , and Maria . Give me your hand , Sir . Vio . My duty , Madam , and most
humble service . Oli . What is your name ? Vio . Cesario is your servant's name ...
Let the garden door be shut , and leave me to my hearing [ Exeunt Sir Toby , Sir
Andrew , and Maria . Give me your hand , Sir . Vio . My duty , Madam , and most
humble service . Oli . What is your name ? Vio . Cesario is your servant's name ...
Стр. 180
A heavier task could not have been impos'd , Than I to speak my grief
unspeakable : Yet that the world may witness , that my end Was wrought by
nature , not by vile offence , I'll utter what my forrow gives me leave . In Syracusa
was I born ...
A heavier task could not have been impos'd , Than I to speak my grief
unspeakable : Yet that the world may witness , that my end Was wrought by
nature , not by vile offence , I'll utter what my forrow gives me leave . In Syracusa
was I born ...
Стр. 346
Lady . Sir Robert's fon ? ay , thou unrev'rend boy , Sir Robert's fon : why scorn'ít
thou at Sir Robert He is Sir Roberi's son ; and so art thou . Phil . James Gurney ,
wilt thou give us leave a while ? Gur . Good leave , good Philip . Phil . Philip !
Lady . Sir Robert's fon ? ay , thou unrev'rend boy , Sir Robert's fon : why scorn'ít
thou at Sir Robert He is Sir Roberi's son ; and so art thou . Phil . James Gurney ,
wilt thou give us leave a while ? Gur . Good leave , good Philip . Phil . Philip !
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againſt anſwer bear better blood bring brother changes comes Count daughter dear death doth Dromio Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith father fear fellow firſt fool fortune France give gone hand hath hear heart heav'n himſelf hold honour hope hour houſe husband I'll John keep King Lady leave live look Lord loſe Madam Marry maſter mean miſtreſs moſt mother muſt nature never night peace Philip poor pray preſent Prince Queen reaſon ſay SCENE ſee ſeems ſelf ſhall ſhe ſhould ſome ſon ſpeak ſtand ſuch ſweet tell thee there's theſe thine thing thoſe thou thou art thought tongue true whoſe wife young
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 70 - 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. 137 - 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. 384 - 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 ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Стр. 295 - But nature makes that mean; so over 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 Which does mend nature — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Стр. 384 - There's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
Стр. 283 - 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. 101 - 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. 419 - 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.