The Beauties of Shakespear: Regularly Selected from Each Play. With a General Index, Digesting Them Under Proper Heads. Illustrated with Explanatory Notes, and Similar Passages, from Ancient and Modern Authors. By William Dodd, ... In Three VolumesJ. Macgowan, 1780 |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 29 találatból.
4. oldal
... grief , and my impatience To be fo peiter'd with a popinjay , Anfwer'd neglectingly , I know not what ; He fhould , or fhould not ; for he made me mad , To fee him fhine fo brifk , and fmell fo fweet , And talk fo like a waiting ...
... grief , and my impatience To be fo peiter'd with a popinjay , Anfwer'd neglectingly , I know not what ; He fhould , or fhould not ; for he made me mad , To fee him fhine fo brifk , and fmell fo fweet , And talk fo like a waiting ...
14. oldal
... grief of a wound ? No : honour hath no fkill in fugery then ? No : what is honour ? a word . What is the word honour ? air : a trim reckon- ing . Who hath it ? he that dy'd a Wednesday . Doth he feel it ? No : doth he hear it ? No : is ...
... grief of a wound ? No : honour hath no fkill in fugery then ? No : what is honour ? a word . What is the word honour ? air : a trim reckon- ing . Who hath it ? he that dy'd a Wednesday . Doth he feel it ? No : doth he hear it ? No : is ...
21. oldal
... grief , being now enrag'd with grief , Are thrice themfelves . Hence , therefore , thou nice crutch , A fcaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Muft glove this hand : and hence , thou fickly quoif , Thou art a guard too wanton for the ...
... grief , being now enrag'd with grief , Are thrice themfelves . Hence , therefore , thou nice crutch , A fcaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Muft glove this hand : and hence , thou fickly quoif , Thou art a guard too wanton for the ...
22. oldal
... grief renders him frantic : his anger defperate . " And I think we may justly add , that no wri- ter excels fo much in these great and terrible images , as Shake- Spear , the Efchylus of the British stage . See Timon of Athens , A. 4. S ...
... grief renders him frantic : his anger defperate . " And I think we may justly add , that no wri- ter excels fo much in these great and terrible images , as Shake- Spear , the Efchylus of the British stage . See Timon of Athens , A. 4. S ...
25. oldal
... grief brings up the rear . And in Plautus his Amphitrion there is a like remark , " Satin parva , ' & c . How short , how trifling are the joys of life , If with the evils that it brings compar'd ? This is the state of man , decreed by ...
... grief brings up the rear . And in Plautus his Amphitrion there is a like remark , " Satin parva , ' & c . How short , how trifling are the joys of life , If with the evils that it brings compar'd ? This is the state of man , decreed by ...
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againſt Ajax almoſt Beaumont and Fletcher becauſe bleffing blood bofom breaſt Brutus Cæfar Cafar Caffius death Defcription doft doth earth Euripides eyes fafe faid falfe fame fays fcene fear feems feen fenfe fhall fhew fhould flain flave fleep fmiles foldier fome fomething forrow foul fpeak fpeech fpirit friends ftill fubject fuch fure fweet fword grief hath heart heav'n himſelf honour Iago itſelf juft king Lady Lear lefs look lord Macb Macbeth Macd Mach mafter moft moſt muft murder muſt myſelf nature never night obferves occafion Othello paffage paffion perfon play pleaſure poet Prince purpoſe racter reafon rife ſays SCENE II SCENE VII ſeem Shakespear ſhall ſpeak ſtand ſtate ſtill ſtrange ſweet tears thee thefe themſelves theſe thing thofe thoſe thou art thouſand uſe Warburton whofe whoſe wife word younker
Népszerű szakaszok
85. oldal - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell...
167. oldal - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off...
225. oldal - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?
85. oldal - This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.
251. oldal - True, I talk of dreams ; Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
238. oldal - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell, Such terrible impression made my dream.
168. oldal - Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
125. oldal - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
254. oldal - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
73. oldal - Content!' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.