The plays of William Shakspeare, pr. from the text of the corrected copies left by G. Steevens and E. Malone, with a selection of notes from the most eminent commentors by A. Chalmers
Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Bawd Beat Beatrice Benedick better Biron Bora Boyet brother Claud Claudio Cost Costard cousin dear death Demetrius Dogb dost thou doth Duke Enter Escal Exeunt Exit eyes fair fairy father favour fear fool friar gentle gentleman give grace hand hath hear heart heaven Helena Hermia Hero Hippolyta hither honour Illyria Isab King lady Leon Leonato look lord Angelo Lucio Lysander madam maid Malone Malvolio Marry master Master constable means mistress moon Moth musick never night Oberon pardon Pedro Philostrate play Pompey pray prince Prov Provost Puck Pyramus Quin SCENE Shakspeare signior sing Sir Andrew Sir Andrew Ague-cheek Sir Toby Sir Toby Belch soul speak swear sweet tell thank thee there's Theseus thine thing thou art thou hast Titania to-morrow tongue troth true What's word
Seite 137 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice...
Seite 302 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's musick.
Seite 36 - Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown ; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there ! Duke.
Seite 457 - Tu-whit, tu-who ! a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit, tu-who...
Seite 236 - Why, then take no note of him, but let him go ; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave.
Seite 151 - So disguise shall, by the disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting. [Exit. ACT IV. SCENE I. — A Room in Mariana'* House. MARIANA discovered sitting; a Boy singing. SONG. Take, oh take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, bring again, Seals of love, but seal'd in vain. seal'd in vain.
Seite 420 - O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility. From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world...
Seite 119 - Alas ! alas ? Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once ; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy : How would you be, If he, which is the top of judgement, should But judge you as you are ? O, think on that ; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made *°. Ang.
Seite 38 - But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like Patience on a monument, Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed ? We men may say more, swear more ; but indeed Our shows are more than will, for still we prove Much in our vows, but little in our love. DuJce. But died thy sister of her love, my boy? Vio. I am all the daughters of my father's house, And all the brothers too ; and yet I know not.
Seite 342 - I had — but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.