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. 12
... low for an high praise , too brown for a fair praife , and too little for a great praife ; only this commenda- tion I can afford her , that were the other than fhe is , fhe were unhandsome ; and being no other 2 1.2 MUCH A D QA of ...
... low for an high praise , too brown for a fair praife , and too little for a great praife ; only this commenda- tion I can afford her , that were the other than fhe is , fhe were unhandsome ; and being no other 2 1.2 MUCH A D QA of ...
Стр. 17
... fair young Hero is , Saying , I liked her ere I went to wars . Pedro . Thou wilt be like a lover presently , And tire the hearer with a book of words : If thou doit love fair Hero , cherith it ,, And I will break with her , and with her ...
... fair young Hero is , Saying , I liked her ere I went to wars . Pedro . Thou wilt be like a lover presently , And tire the hearer with a book of words : If thou doit love fair Hero , cherith it ,, And I will break with her , and with her ...
Стр. 18
... fair Hero Ham Claudio ;.』! And in her bofom I'll unclafp my heart , And take her hearing prifoner with the force And ftrong encounter of my amorous tale : Then , after , to her father will I break ; And the conclufion is , fhe fhall be ...
... fair Hero Ham Claudio ;.』! And in her bofom I'll unclafp my heart , And take her hearing prifoner with the force And ftrong encounter of my amorous tale : Then , after , to her father will I break ; And the conclufion is , fhe fhall be ...
Стр. 19
... fair weather that you make yourself ; it is needful that you frame the feafon for your own harvest . John . I had rather be a canker in a hedge , than a rofe in his grace ; and it better fits my blood to be difdained of al , than to ...
... fair weather that you make yourself ; it is needful that you frame the feafon for your own harvest . John . I had rather be a canker in a hedge , than a rofe in his grace ; and it better fits my blood to be difdained of al , than to ...
Стр. 31
... fair Hero is won ; I have broke with her father , and his good will obtained ; name the day of mar riage , and God give thee joy . Leon . Count , take of me my daughter , and with her my fortune : his Grace hath made the match , and all ...
... fair Hero is won ; I have broke with her father , and his good will obtained ; name the day of mar riage , and God give thee joy . Leon . Count , take of me my daughter , and with her my fortune : his Grace hath made the match , and all ...
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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.