The Dramatic Writings of Will. Shakespeare: With Introductory Prefaces to Each Play ; Printed Complete from the Best Editions, 7. kötet

Első borító
R. Morison Junr., 1798

Részletek a könyvből

Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése

Gyakori szavak és kifejezések

Népszerű szakaszok

50. oldal - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased ; The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds And weak beginnings lie intreasured.
89. oldal - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
105. oldal - I know thee not, old man: Fall to thy prayers ; How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester!
67. oldal - It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east : Night's candles are burnt out...
89. oldal - Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o
31. oldal - The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
21. 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.
14. oldal - But, I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly...
89. oldal - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living ? No. Why ? Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere 'scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
83. oldal - Alack, alack, is it not like that I So early waking, what with loathsome smells And shrieks like mandrakes...

Bibliográfiai információk