The Plays of William Shakespeare in Eight Volumes: With the Corrections and Illustrations of Various Commentators; to which are Added Notes by Sam Johnson, Band 3 |
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Seite 11
Oh , noble Lord , bethink thee of thy birth , Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment , Ard banish hence thefe abject lowly dreams . Look , how thy fervants do attend on thee ; Each in his office ready at thy beck .
Oh , noble Lord , bethink thee of thy birth , Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment , Ard banish hence thefe abject lowly dreams . Look , how thy fervants do attend on thee ; Each in his office ready at thy beck .
Seite 14
... For fo your Doctors hold it very meet ; Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood ; And melancholy is the nurfe of frenzy . Therefore , they thought it good you hear a play , And frame your mind to mirth and merriment ...
... For fo your Doctors hold it very meet ; Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood ; And melancholy is the nurfe of frenzy . Therefore , they thought it good you hear a play , And frame your mind to mirth and merriment ...
Seite 20
Oh Tranio , ' till I found it to be true , I never thought it poffible or likely . But fee , while idly I stood looking on , I found th ' effect of Love in idleness : And now in plainnefs do confefs to thee , ( That art to me as fecret ...
Oh Tranio , ' till I found it to be true , I never thought it poffible or likely . But fee , while idly I stood looking on , I found th ' effect of Love in idleness : And now in plainnefs do confefs to thee , ( That art to me as fecret ...
Seite 21
I pray , awake , Sir ; if you love the maid , Bend thoughts and wit t'atchieve her . Thus it ftands ; Her eldest fifter is fo curft and fhrewd , That till the Father rids his hands of her , Master , your love must live a Maid at home ...
I pray , awake , Sir ; if you love the maid , Bend thoughts and wit t'atchieve her . Thus it ftands ; Her eldest fifter is fo curft and fhrewd , That till the Father rids his hands of her , Master , your love must live a Maid at home ...
Seite 44
And I am one , that love Bianca more Than words can witnefs , or your thoughts can guess , Gre . Youngling ! thou canst not love fo dear as I , Tra . Grey - beard ! thy love doth freeze . Gre . But thine doth fry ' .
And I am one , that love Bianca more Than words can witnefs , or your thoughts can guess , Gre . Youngling ! thou canst not love fo dear as I , Tra . Grey - beard ! thy love doth freeze . Gre . But thine doth fry ' .
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bear Beat believe Benedick better blood bring brother Cath Changes Claud Claudio comes Count daughter death doth Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair faith fame father fear feems fellow fenfe fhall fhould fome fool foul fpeak France fuch fweet give hand hath hear heart heav'n Hero hold honour hope I'll Italy John keep King lady leave Leon live look Lord Madam mafter marry mean moft mother muft muſt nature never night peace Pedro play poor pray Prince SCENE Signior tell thank thee thefe THEOBALD theſe thing thou thought tongue true truth WARBURTON wife wrong young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 465 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Seite 93 - Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labour both by sea and land...
Seite 457 - There's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
Seite 499 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Seite 456 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Seite 361 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.