The Works of William Shakespeare, Band 9Macmillan and Company, 1895 |
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Seite xxxvi
... better arrangement of the volumes which precede it . In the first edition , Henry VIII . , the last of the Historical Plays , was the first play in Volume VI . , which began the Tragedies . In the present edition the Comedies are in ...
... better arrangement of the volumes which precede it . In the first edition , Henry VIII . , the last of the Historical Plays , was the first play in Volume VI . , which began the Tragedies . In the present edition the Comedies are in ...
Seite 29
... better prince and benign lord , That will prove awful both in deed and word . Be quiet then as men should be , Till he hath pass'd necessity . I'll show you those in troubles reign , Losing a mite , a mountain gain . The good in ...
... better prince and benign lord , That will prove awful both in deed and word . Be quiet then as men should be , Till he hath pass'd necessity . I'll show you those in troubles reign , Losing a mite , a mountain gain . The good in ...
Seite 35
... better office than to be beadle . But , master , I'll go draw up the net . [ Exit with Third Fisherman . Per . [ Aside ] How well this honest mirth becomes their labour ! 94 First Fish . Hark you , sir , do you know where ye are ? Per ...
... better office than to be beadle . But , master , I'll go draw up the net . [ Exit with Third Fisherman . Per . [ Aside ] How well this honest mirth becomes their labour ! 94 First Fish . Hark you , sir , do you know where ye are ? Per ...
Seite 38
... better , I'll pay your bounties ; till then rest your debtor . First Fish . Why , wilt thou tourney for the lady ? Per . I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms . First Fish . Why , do'e take it , and the gods give thee good on't ...
... better , I'll pay your bounties ; till then rest your debtor . First Fish . Why , wilt thou tourney for the lady ? Per . I'll show the virtue I have borne in arms . First Fish . Why , do'e take it , and the gods give thee good on't ...
Seite 42
... better than his out- ward show Can any way speak in his just commend ; For by his rusty outside he appears To have practised more the whipstock than the lance . Sec . Lord . He well may be a stranger , for he comes To an honour'd ...
... better than his out- ward show Can any way speak in his just commend ; For by his rusty outside he appears To have practised more the whipstock than the lance . Sec . Lord . He well may be a stranger , for he comes To an honour'd ...
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Anon Bawd Boult Cade Collier daughter dead death Dionyza dost doth Duke Duke of Yorke Dyce edition Elze conj England's Helicon Enter euen Exet Exeunt Exit eyes fair Falstaffe father fear France Gildon giue Gloster grace Hamlet hath haue heare heart heauen heere Henry honour house of Yorke Hudson Humphrey Hyphened Iuliet King Lady leaue Lintott liue looke Lord loue Lucrece Lysimachus Maiestie maister Malone Capell Malone conj mistress Mytilene neuer night omnes Orger conj Pericles pray Prince Prince of Tyre Prose in QqF3F4 Q₁ Queene quoth rest Romeo Rowe saue selfe Sewell Shakespeare shalt shame sir Iohn sonne souldiers soule speake Steevens conj Suffolke sweet tell thee thine thinke thou art thou hast Tybalt Venus and Adonis vnto vpon Walker conj Warburton Warwike wilt Yorke
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 291 - Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date...
Seite 349 - Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Seite 367 - CXLVI. Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Press'd by these rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge ? is this thy body's end ? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross ; Within be fed,...
Seite 342 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have express'd Even such a beauty as you master now.
Seite 298 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Seite 362 - When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue; On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
Seite 323 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Seite 313 - Not marble, nor the gilded monuments Of princes, shall out-live this powerful rhyme ; But you shall shine more bright in these contents Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. When wasteful war shall statues overturn, And broils root out the work of masonry, Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn The living record of your memory, 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth ; your praise shall still find room, Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world...
Seite 319 - Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, As, to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn, And gilded honour shamefully misplaced, And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
Seite 303 - Be thou the tenth muse, ten times more in worth Than those old nine which rhymers invocate; And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth Eternal numbers to outlive long date. If my slight muse do please these curious days, The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.