The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts, Nide 4Jacob Tonson, within Grays-Inn Gate, next Grays-Inn Lane., 1709 |
Kirjan sisältä
Tulokset 6 - 10 kokonaismäärästä 43
Sivu 1649
... Buck . Look I fo pale , Lord Dorfet , as the rest ? Dorf . Ay , my good Lord ; and no Man in the presence But his red Colour hath forfook his Cheeks . K. Edw . Is Clarence dead ? the Order was revers'd . Glo . But he , poor Man , by ...
... Buck . Look I fo pale , Lord Dorfet , as the rest ? Dorf . Ay , my good Lord ; and no Man in the presence But his red Colour hath forfook his Cheeks . K. Edw . Is Clarence dead ? the Order was revers'd . Glo . But he , poor Man , by ...
Sivu 1651
... Buck . We wait upon your Grace . SCENE II . [ Exeunt . Enter the Dutchess of York , with the two Children of Clarence . Son . Good Grandam tell us , is our Father dead ? Dutch . No , Boy . Daugh . Why do you weep fo oft ? and beat your ...
... Buck . We wait upon your Grace . SCENE II . [ Exeunt . Enter the Dutchess of York , with the two Children of Clarence . Son . Good Grandam tell us , is our Father dead ? Dutch . No , Boy . Daugh . Why do you weep fo oft ? and beat your ...
Sivu 1654
... Buck . You cloudy Princes , and heart - forrowing Peers , That bear this mutual heavy load of Moan , Now cheer each other in each others Love ; Though we have spent our Harvest of this King , We are to reap the Harveft of his Son . The ...
... Buck . You cloudy Princes , and heart - forrowing Peers , That bear this mutual heavy load of Moan , Now cheer each other in each others Love ; Though we have spent our Harvest of this King , We are to reap the Harveft of his Son . The ...
Sivu 1658
... Buck . W Elcome sweet Prince to London , Το your Chamber . Glo . Welcome dear Coufin , my thoughts Sovereign , The weary way hath made you Melancholy . Prince . No , Uncle , but our crosses on the Way Have made it tedious , wearifom and ...
... Buck . W Elcome sweet Prince to London , Το your Chamber . Glo . Welcome dear Coufin , my thoughts Sovereign , The weary way hath made you Melancholy . Prince . No , Uncle , but our crosses on the Way Have made it tedious , wearifom and ...
Sivu 1659
... Buck . And in good time , here comes the fweating Lord . Prince . Welcome , my Lord ; what , will our Mother come ? Haft . On what Occafion God he knows , not I , The Queen your Mother , and your Brother York , Have taken Sanctuary ...
... Buck . And in good time , here comes the fweating Lord . Prince . Welcome , my Lord ; what , will our Mother come ? Haft . On what Occafion God he knows , not I , The Queen your Mother , and your Brother York , Have taken Sanctuary ...
Muita painoksia - Näytä kaikki
Yleiset termit ja lausekkeet
Achilles againſt Agamemnon Ajax Andronicus Blood Brother Buck Buckingham Calchas Caufe Cham Clar Clarence Cominius Coriolanus Coufin Crown Curfe Death defire Diomede doth Duke Duke of York e'er Edward Enter Exeunt Exit Eyes fafe faid Farewel Father fear felf felves fent fhall fhew fhould flain fome fpeak Friends ftand ftay ftill fuch fweet give Goths Grace Haftings Hand hath hear Heart Heav'n Hector Henry himſelf Honour i'th King Lady Lavinia lefs Lord Lord Chamberlain Love Lucius Madam Martius moft morrow muft muſt Noble o'th Pandarus Patroclus Peace pleaſe pleaſure pray prefent Priam Prince Queen Reafon reft Rich Rome ſhall Soul ſpeak Sword Tears tell thee thefe Ther theſe thine thofe thou art Titus Titus Andronicus Tongue Troi Troilus unto Vlyf Warwick whofe
Suositut otteet
Sivu 1630 - Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? Was ever woman in this humour won ? I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no friends to back my suit withal, But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing ! Ha!
Sivu 1774 - This many summers in a sea of glory ; But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride At length broke under me ; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Sivu 1776 - Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of...
Sivu 1859 - That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer : welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O ! let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was ; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time. One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, That all with one consent praise new-born gawds, Though they are made and moulded...
Sivu 1567 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years...
Sivu 1777 - Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not ; Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Sivu 1839 - Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
Sivu 1775 - O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Sivu 1782 - O, father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity...
Sivu 1749 - tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow.