The Works of Mr. William Shakespear;: In Six Volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts, Band 4Jacob Tonson, within Grays-Inn Gate, next Grays-Inn Lane., 1709 |
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Seite 1563
... Mother ftands , For well I wot , thou haft thy Mother's Tongue . Queen . But thou art neither like thy Sire nor Dam , But like a foul mishapen Stigmatick , Mark'd by the Deftinies to be avoided , As venomous Toads , or Lizards dreadful ...
... Mother ftands , For well I wot , thou haft thy Mother's Tongue . Queen . But thou art neither like thy Sire nor Dam , But like a foul mishapen Stigmatick , Mark'd by the Deftinies to be avoided , As venomous Toads , or Lizards dreadful ...
Seite 1569
... Mother , for a Father's Death , Take on with me , and ne'er be fatisfy'd ? Fath . How will my Wife , for flaughter of my Son , Shed Seas of Tears , and ne'er be fatisfy'd ? K. Henry . How will the Country , for the woful chances , Mifs ...
... Mother , for a Father's Death , Take on with me , and ne'er be fatisfy'd ? Fath . How will my Wife , for flaughter of my Son , Shed Seas of Tears , and ne'er be fatisfy'd ? K. Henry . How will the Country , for the woful chances , Mifs ...
Seite 1578
... Mother . Thou art a Widow , and thou haft fome Children , And by God's Mother , I being but a Batchelor , Have other fome . Why , ' tis a happy thing , To be the Father unto many Sons : Anfwer no more , for thou shalt be my Queen ...
... Mother . Thou art a Widow , and thou haft fome Children , And by God's Mother , I being but a Batchelor , Have other fome . Why , ' tis a happy thing , To be the Father unto many Sons : Anfwer no more , for thou shalt be my Queen ...
Seite 1579
... Mother's Womb : And , for I fhould not deal in her foft Laws , She did corrupt frail Nature with fome Bribe , To fhrink mine Arm like to a wither'd fhrub , To make an envious Mountain on my Back , Where fits Deformity to mock my Body ...
... Mother's Womb : And , for I fhould not deal in her foft Laws , She did corrupt frail Nature with fome Bribe , To fhrink mine Arm like to a wither'd fhrub , To make an envious Mountain on my Back , Where fits Deformity to mock my Body ...
Seite 1612
... Mother , Boy . Can't thou not speak ? O Traitors , Murderers ! They that ftabb'd Cafar , thed no Blood at all , Did not offend , nor were not worthy Blame , If this foul Deed were by , to equal it . He was a Man ; this ( in refpect ) a ...
... Mother , Boy . Can't thou not speak ? O Traitors , Murderers ! They that ftabb'd Cafar , thed no Blood at all , Did not offend , nor were not worthy Blame , If this foul Deed were by , to equal it . He was a Man ; this ( in refpect ) a ...
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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
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 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!
Seite 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.
Seite 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...
Seite 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...
Seite 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...
Seite 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.
Seite 1839 - Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice Of any true decision.
Seite 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.
Seite 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...
Seite 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.