The Works of Shakespeare: In Eight Volumes ; Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected: with Notes, Explanatory, and Critical:, Band 6H. Lintott, C. Hitch, J. and R. Tonson, C. Corbet, R. and B. Wellington, J. Brindley, and E. New, 1740 |
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Seite 105
Howl , howl , howl , howl , O , you are men of stone ; Had I your tongues and eyes
, I'd use them fo , That heaven's vault should crack : fhe's gone for ever ! I know ,
when one is dead , and when one lives ; She's dead as earth ! lend me a ...
Howl , howl , howl , howl , O , you are men of stone ; Had I your tongues and eyes
, I'd use them fo , That heaven's vault should crack : fhe's gone for ever ! I know ,
when one is dead , and when one lives ; She's dead as earth ! lend me a ...
Seite 130
I love and honour him ; But must not break my back , to heal his finger .
Immediate are my needs , and my relief Must not be tost and turn'd to me in words
, But find Supply immediate . Get you gone . Put on a most importunate aspect , A
visage ...
I love and honour him ; But must not break my back , to heal his finger .
Immediate are my needs , and my relief Must not be tost and turn'd to me in words
, But find Supply immediate . Get you gone . Put on a most importunate aspect , A
visage ...
Seite 136
Ah ! when the means are gone , that buy this praise , The breath is gone whereof
this praise is made : Feast - won , faft - loft : one cloud of winter showres , These
flies are coucht . Tim . Come , sermon me no further . No villainous bounty yet ...
Ah ! when the means are gone , that buy this praise , The breath is gone whereof
this praise is made : Feast - won , faft - loft : one cloud of winter showres , These
flies are coucht . Tim . Come , sermon me no further . No villainous bounty yet ...
Seite 161
I pr'ythee , beat thy drum , and get thee gone . Alc . I am thy friend , and pity thee ,
dear Timon . Tim . How doft thou pity him , whom thou doft trouble ? I'ad rather be
alone . Alc . Why , fare thee well , Here's gold for thee . Tim . Keep it , I cannot ...
I pr'ythee , beat thy drum , and get thee gone . Alc . I am thy friend , and pity thee ,
dear Timon . Tim . How doft thou pity him , whom thou doft trouble ? I'ad rather be
alone . Alc . Why , fare thee well , Here's gold for thee . Tim . Keep it , I cannot ...
Seite 162
There's gold to pay thy soldiers , Make large confufion ; and , thy fury spent ,
Confounded be thy felf ! speak not , be gone . · Alc . Hast thou gold yet ? P'll take
the gold thou giv'ft me , not thy counsel . Tim . Dost thou , or doft thou not , heav'
n's ...
There's gold to pay thy soldiers , Make large confufion ; and , thy fury spent ,
Confounded be thy felf ! speak not , be gone . · Alc . Hast thou gold yet ? P'll take
the gold thou giv'ft me , not thy counsel . Tim . Dost thou , or doft thou not , heav'
n's ...
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