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 124
... Rofa . Another of thefe ftudents at that time Was there with him , as I have heard a truth , 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 occafion ...
... Rofa . Another of thefe ftudents at that time Was there with him , as I have heard a truth , 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 occafion ...
Página 126
... Rofa . Not ' till it leave the rider in the mire . [ tire . Biron . What time o ' day ? Rofa . The hour that fools should ask . Biron . Now fair befal your mark ! Rofa . Fair fall the face it covers ! Biran . And fend you many lovers ! Rofa ...
... Rofa . Not ' till it leave the rider in the mire . [ tire . Biron . What time o ' day ? Rofa . The hour that fools should ask . Biron . Now fair befal your mark ! Rofa . Fair fall the face it covers ! Biran . And fend you many lovers ! Rofa ...
Página 128
... I had no authority to displace them : tho I must own freely at the fame time , there are fome scenes ( particularly in this play ) fo very mean and contemptible , Rofa . I pray you , do my commendations ; 128 LOVE's LABOUR's LOST .
... I had no authority to displace them : tho I must own freely at the fame time , there are fome scenes ( particularly in this play ) fo very mean and contemptible , Rofa . I pray you , do my commendations ; 128 LOVE's LABOUR's LOST .
Página 129
... Rofa . I pray you , do my commendations ; I would be glad to 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 ...
... Rofa . I pray you , do my commendations ; I would be glad to 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 ...
Página 131
... Rofa . Thou art an old love - monger , and fpeakeft fkilfully . [ of him . Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather , and learns news Rofa . Then was Venus like her mother , for her father is but grim . Boyet . Do you hear , my Mar. No. mad ...
... Rofa . Thou art an old love - monger , and fpeakeft fkilfully . [ of him . Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather , and learns news Rofa . Then was Venus like her mother , for her father is but grim . Boyet . Do you hear , my Mar. No. mad ...
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.