The Works of Shakespeare in Twelve Volumes: Collated with the Oldest Copies and Corrected: with Notes Explanatory and Critical, Том 3R. Crowder, 1772 |
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Стр. 38
... See you where Benedick hath hid himself ? Claud . O very well , my Lord ; the music ended , We'll fit the kid - fox with a penny - worth . Pedro . Come , Balthazar , we'll hear that fong again . Balth . O good my Lord , tax not so bad a ...
... See you where Benedick hath hid himself ? Claud . O very well , my Lord ; the music ended , We'll fit the kid - fox with a penny - worth . Pedro . Come , Balthazar , we'll hear that fong again . Balth . O good my Lord , tax not so bad a ...
Стр. 85
... See , fee , here comes the man we went to feek . Claud . Now , Signior , what news ? Bene . Good day , my Lord . Pedro . Welcome , Signior ; you are almost come to part almost a fray . Claud . We had like to have had our two noses fnapt ...
... See , fee , here comes the man we went to feek . Claud . Now , Signior , what news ? Bene . Good day , my Lord . Pedro . Welcome , Signior ; you are almost come to part almost a fray . Claud . We had like to have had our two noses fnapt ...
Стр. 129
... see it . Biron . I would you heard it groan . Rofa . Is the fool fick ? Biron . Sick at the heart . Rofa . Alack , let it blood . Biron . Would that do it good ? Rofa . My phyfic fays , Ay . Biron . Will you prick't with your eye ? Rofa ...
... see it . Biron . I would you heard it groan . Rofa . Is the fool fick ? Biron . Sick at the heart . Rofa . Alack , let it blood . Biron . Would that do it good ? Rofa . My phyfic fays , Ay . Biron . Will you prick't with your eye ? Rofa ...
Стр. 143
... See , fee , my beauty will be faved by merit . O herefy in fair , fit for thefe days ! A giving hand , though foul , fhall have fair praife . But come , the bow ; now mercy goes to kill , And shooting well is then accounted ill . Thus ...
... See , fee , my beauty will be faved by merit . O herefy in fair , fit for thefe days ! A giving hand , though foul , fhall have fair praife . But come , the bow ; now mercy goes to kill , And shooting well is then accounted ill . Thus ...
Стр. 149
... see him in a fchool . But omne bene , fay I ; being of an old father's mind , Many can brook the weather , that love not the wind . Dull . You two are book - men ; can you tell by your wit , What was a month old at Cain's birth , that's ...
... see him in a fchool . But omne bene , fay I ; being of an old father's mind , Many can brook the weather , that love not the wind . Dull . You two are book - men ; can you tell by your wit , What was a month old at Cain's birth , that's ...
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Afide againſt Aglet anfwer Antigonus Aquitain Beat Beatrice becauſe Benedick Biron Bohemia Bora Borachio Boyet brother Camillo Claud Claudio Coft Coftard coufin daughter defire doft Dogb doth elfe Enter Exeunt Exit eyes faid fair Fair Ladies falfe father feems feen fenfe fhall fhame fhew fhould fince fing firſt fome fool foul fpeak Friar ftand fuch fure fwear fweet fworn gentleman grace hath hear heart Hermione Hero himſelf honeft honour Jaquenetta kifs King Lady lefs Leon Leonato Lord Madam mafter marry moft moſt Moth muft muſt myſelf Navarre never paffage Paul Paulina perfon pleaſe Polixenes Pompey praife praiſe pray prefent Prince Princefs Queen reafon Rofa ſhall ſhe Shep Sicilia Signior ſpeak ſtay tell thee thefe theſe thofe tongue troth whofe wife word yourſelf
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Стр. 124 - Biron they call him ; but a merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal. His eye begets occasion for his wit ; For every object that the one doth catch, The other turns to a mirth-moving jest...
Стр. 281 - For you there's rosemary and rue; these keep Seeming and savour all the winter long: Grace and remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our shearing!
Стр. 229 - Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
Стр. 213 - While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.