The Plays of William Shakspeare. ....T. Bensley, 1800 |
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Αποτελέσματα 1 - 5 από τα 79.
Σελίδα 2
... hands of that Welshman taken , And a thousand of his people butchered : Upon whofe dead corps there was fuch mifufe , Such beaftly , fhameless transformation , By thofe Welshwomen done , as may not be , Without much shame , retold or ...
... hands of that Welshman taken , And a thousand of his people butchered : Upon whofe dead corps there was fuch mifufe , Such beaftly , fhameless transformation , By thofe Welshwomen done , as may not be , Without much shame , retold or ...
Σελίδα 11
... , my fovereign liege , little deferves The scourge of greatness to be used on it ; And that fame greatnefs too which our own hands Have holp to make so portly . North . North . My lord , —— K. Hen . Worcester A & . 11 KING HENRY IV .
... , my fovereign liege , little deferves The scourge of greatness to be used on it ; And that fame greatnefs too which our own hands Have holp to make so portly . North . North . My lord , —— K. Hen . Worcester A & . 11 KING HENRY IV .
Σελίδα 14
... hand to hand , He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendower : Three times they breath'd , and three times did they drink , Upon agreement , of swift Severn's flood ; Who then , affrighted with ...
... hand to hand , He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendower : Three times they breath'd , and three times did they drink , Upon agreement , of swift Severn's flood ; Who then , affrighted with ...
Σελίδα 18
... hand . You ftart away , Wor . And lend no ear unto my purposes.- Those prisoners you shall keep . Nay , I will ; that's flat : - Hot . He faid , he would not ransom Mortimer ; Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer ; But I will find him ...
... hand . You ftart away , Wor . And lend no ear unto my purposes.- Those prisoners you shall keep . Nay , I will ; that's flat : - Hot . He faid , he would not ransom Mortimer ; Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer ; But I will find him ...
Σελίδα 22
... hand . 1 Car . Haigh ho ! An't be not four by the day , I'll be hang'd : Charles ' wain is over the new chimney , and yet our horfe not pack'd . What , oftler ! Oft . [ Within . ] Anon , anon . 1 Car . I pr'ythee , Tom , beat Cut's ...
... hand . 1 Car . Haigh ho ! An't be not four by the day , I'll be hang'd : Charles ' wain is over the new chimney , and yet our horfe not pack'd . What , oftler ! Oft . [ Within . ] Anon , anon . 1 Car . I pr'ythee , Tom , beat Cut's ...
Άλλες εκδόσεις - Προβολή όλων
Συχνά εμφανιζόμενοι όροι και φράσεις
againſt anſwer art thou Bard Bardolph blood brother captain cauſe Colevile coufin crown doft doth duke duke of Burgundy England Engliſh Enter Exeunt Exit fack faid FALSTAFF fame father fear fhall fir John firſt foldiers fome foul fpirit France French ftand fuch fword give Glend grace Harfleur Harry hath hear heart heaven himſelf Hoft honour horfe horſe houſe Juft Kate Kath King HENRY Lady liege lord mafter majeſty miſtreſs moft moſt muſt myſelf never night noble Northumberland numbers peace Percy Pift Piſtol pleaſe Poins pr'ythee praiſe pray preſent prince Prince JOHN prince of Wales priſoners purpoſe rafcal reaſon ſay SCENE ſee Shal ſhall ſhould ſhow ſpeak ſtand ſtate ſuch ſweet tell thee theſe thoſe thou art thouſand unto uſe Weft whofe Whoſe yourſelf
Δημοφιλή αποσπάσματα
Σελίδα 92 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere 'scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
Σελίδα 37 - Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more : Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing- so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears. Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood...
Σελίδα 92 - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Σελίδα 82 - Tut, tut ! good enough to toss ; food for powder, food for powder ; they'll fill a pit, as well as better ; tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
Σελίδα 78 - His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Σελίδα 60 - Now entertain conjecture of a time, When creeping murmur, and the poring dark, Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
Σελίδα 52 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased ; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
Σελίδα 38 - Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture; let us swear That you are worth your breeding— which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot: Follow your spirit; and upon this charge Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!
Σελίδα 51 - With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Σελίδα 8 - Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt...