The Works of Shakespeare in Twelve Volumes: Collated with the Oldest Copies and Corrected: with Notes Explanatory and Critical, Volumen3R. Crowder, 1772 |
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Página 8
... Beat . I pray you is Signior Montanto returned from the wars or no ? Me . I know none of that name , Lady ; there was none fuch in the army of any fort . Leon . What is he that you ask for , niece ? Hero . My coufin means Signior ...
... Beat . I pray you is Signior Montanto returned from the wars or no ? Me . I know none of that name , Lady ; there was none fuch in the army of any fort . Leon . What is he that you ask for , niece ? Hero . My coufin means Signior ...
Página 9
... Beat . You had musty victuals , and he hath holp to eat it ; he's a very valiant trencher - man , he hath an excellent ftomach . Me . And a good foldier too , Lady . Beat . And a good foldier to a lady : but what is he to a lord ? Meff ...
... Beat . You had musty victuals , and he hath holp to eat it ; he's a very valiant trencher - man , he hath an excellent ftomach . Me . And a good foldier too , Lady . Beat . And a good foldier to a lady : but what is he to a lord ? Meff ...
Página 10
... Beat . Very easily poffible ; he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat , it ever changes with the next block . Mel . I fee , Lady , the gentleman is not in your books . Beat . No ; an he were , I would burn my study . But I pray ...
... Beat . Very easily poffible ; he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat , it ever changes with the next block . Mel . I fee , Lady , the gentleman is not in your books . Beat . No ; an he were , I would burn my study . But I pray ...
Página 11
... Beat . I wonder that you will ftill be talking , Signior Benedick ; no body marks you . Bene . What , my dear lady Difdain ! are you yet living ? Beat . Is it poffible Difdain should die , while fhe hath fuch meet food to feed on as ...
... Beat . I wonder that you will ftill be talking , Signior Benedick ; no body marks you . Bene . What , my dear lady Difdain ! are you yet living ? Beat . Is it poffible Difdain should die , while fhe hath fuch meet food to feed on as ...
Página 12
... Beat . A bird of my tongue is better than a beaft yours . Bene . I would my horfe had the speed of your tongue , and fo good a continuer ; but keep your way a God's name , I have done . Beat . You always end with a jade's trick ; I know ...
... Beat . A bird of my tongue is better than a beaft yours . Bene . I would my horfe had the speed of your tongue , and fo good a continuer ; but keep your way a God's name , I have done . Beat . You always end with a jade's trick ; I know ...
Términos y frases comunes
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
Pasajes populares
Página 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...
Página 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!
Página 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.
Página 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.