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 32
... those things I told you of ? Beat . I cry you mercy , uncle : by your Grace's pardon . [ Exit Beatrice . Pedro . By my troth , a pleasant - spirited lady . Leon . There's little of the melancholy element in her , my Lord ; fhe is never ...
... those things I told you of ? Beat . I cry you mercy , uncle : by your Grace's pardon . [ Exit Beatrice . Pedro . By my troth , a pleasant - spirited lady . Leon . There's little of the melancholy element in her , my Lord ; fhe is never ...
Página 45
... those thanks , than you take pains to thank me : if it had been painful , I would not have come . Bene . You take pleasure then in the meffage . Beat . Yea , just fo much as you may take upon a knife's point , and choak a daw withal ...
... those thanks , than you take pains to thank me : if it had been painful , I would not have come . Bene . You take pleasure then in the meffage . Beat . Yea , just fo much as you may take upon a knife's point , and choak a daw withal ...
Página 70
... those blushes ; And in her eye there hath appeared a fire , To burn the errors that these princes hold Againft her maiden truth . Call me a fool , Trust not my reading , nor my observations , Which with experimental feal doth warrant ...
... those blushes ; And in her eye there hath appeared a fire , To burn the errors that these princes hold Againft her maiden truth . Call me a fool , Trust not my reading , nor my observations , Which with experimental feal doth warrant ...
Página 96
... Those that flew thy virgin knight ; For the which with fongs of woe , Round about her tomb they go . Midnight , affift our moan ; Help us to figh and groan Heavily , heavily : Graves , yawn and yield your dead , ' Till death be uttered ...
... Those that flew thy virgin knight ; For the which with fongs of woe , Round about her tomb they go . Midnight , affift our moan ; Help us to figh and groan Heavily , heavily : Graves , yawn and yield your dead , ' Till death be uttered ...
Página 136
... those three I will prove . Arm . What wilt thou prove ? ན ” s Moth . A man , if I live . And this by , in , and out f , upon the inftant : by heart you love her , because your heart cannot come by her : in heart you love her , because ...
... those three I will prove . Arm . What wilt thou prove ? ན ” s Moth . A man , if I live . And this by , in , and out f , upon the inftant : by heart you love her , because your heart cannot come by her : in heart you love her , because ...
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.