The Plays of William Shakespeare, Band 10 |
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Seite 19
But , as I faid , when it did taste the worm - wood on the nipple of my dug , and felt it bitter , pretty fool , to fee it techy , and fall out with the dug . Shake , quoth the Dove houfetwas no need , I trow , to bid me trudge ...
But , as I faid , when it did taste the worm - wood on the nipple of my dug , and felt it bitter , pretty fool , to fee it techy , and fall out with the dug . Shake , quoth the Dove houfetwas no need , I trow , to bid me trudge ...
Seite 33
141 . is an old fong of a king's falling in love with a beggar - maid , which I take to be the very ballad in queftion , altho ' the name of the king is no longer found in it , which will be no objection , to any one who has compared ...
141 . is an old fong of a king's falling in love with a beggar - maid , which I take to be the very ballad in queftion , altho ' the name of the king is no longer found in it , which will be no objection , to any one who has compared ...
Seite 35
( 4 ) Oh , fpeak again , bright angel ! for thou art As glorious to this Sight , being o'er my head , As is a winged meffenger from heav'n , Unto the white - upturned , wondring eyes Of mortals , that fall back to gaze on him ; When he ...
( 4 ) Oh , fpeak again , bright angel ! for thou art As glorious to this Sight , being o'er my head , As is a winged meffenger from heav'n , Unto the white - upturned , wondring eyes Of mortals , that fall back to gaze on him ; When he ...
Seite 42
And art thou chang'd ? pronounce this fentence then , Women may fall , when there's no firength in men . Rom . Thou chidd'ft me oft for loving Rofaline . Fri. For doating , not for loving , Pupil mine .. Rom . And bad'ft me bury love .
And art thou chang'd ? pronounce this fentence then , Women may fall , when there's no firength in men . Rom . Thou chidd'ft me oft for loving Rofaline . Fri. For doating , not for loving , Pupil mine .. Rom . And bad'ft me bury love .
Seite 51
Lord , how my head akes ! what a head have I ? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces . My back o ' th ' other fide O my back , my back : Befhrew your heart , for fending me about To catch my death with jaunting up and down . Jul .
Lord , how my head akes ! what a head have I ? It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces . My back o ' th ' other fide O my back , my back : Befhrew your heart , for fending me about To catch my death with jaunting up and down . Jul .
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