The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: To which are Added His Miscellaneous Poems ...J. Walker, 1821 |
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Strona 21
... Master , will you win your love with a French brawl + ? Arm . How mean'st thou ? Brawling in French ? Moth . No , my complete master ; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end , canary to it with your feet , humour it with turning up ...
... Master , will you win your love with a French brawl + ? Arm . How mean'st thou ? Brawling in French ? Moth . No , my complete master ; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end , canary to it with your feet , humour it with turning up ...
Strona 22
... master ; the hobby - horse is but a colt , and your love , perhaps , a hackney . But have you forgot your love ? Arm . Almost I had . Moth . Negligent student ! Learn her by heart . Arm . By heart , and in heart , boy . Moth . And out ...
... master ; the hobby - horse is but a colt , and your love , perhaps , a hackney . But have you forgot your love ? Arm . Almost I had . Moth . Negligent student ! Learn her by heart . Arm . By heart , and in heart , boy . Moth . And out ...
Strona 23
... master ; broken in a shin . here's a Costard * Arm . Some enigma , some riddle : come , -thy l'envoy - begin . Cost . No egma , no riddle , no l'envoy ; no salve in the mail , Sir : O , Sir , plantain , a plain plantain ; no l'envoy ...
... master ; broken in a shin . here's a Costard * Arm . Some enigma , some riddle : come , -thy l'envoy - begin . Cost . No egma , no riddle , no l'envoy ; no salve in the mail , Sir : O , Sir , plantain , a plain plantain ; no l'envoy ...
Strona 29
... master of mine , To a lady of France , that he call'd Rosaline . Prin . Thou hast mistaken his letter . Come , lords , away . day . Here , sweet , put up this ; ' twill be thine another [ Exit Princess and Train . Boyet . Who is the ...
... master of mine , To a lady of France , that he call'd Rosaline . Prin . Thou hast mistaken his letter . Come , lords , away . day . Here , sweet , put up this ; ' twill be thine another [ Exit Princess and Train . Boyet . Who is the ...
Strona 31
... master Holofernes , the epithets are sweetly varied , like a scholar at the least : but , Sir , I assure ye , it was a buck of the first head . Hol . Sir Nathaniel , haud credo . Dull . Twas not a haud credo , ' twas a pricket . Hol ...
... master Holofernes , the epithets are sweetly varied , like a scholar at the least : but , Sir , I assure ye , it was a buck of the first head . Hol . Sir Nathaniel , haud credo . Dull . Twas not a haud credo , ' twas a pricket . Hol ...
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Antigonus Antonio Art thou AUTOLYCUS Banquo Baptista Bass Bassanio better Bianca Bion Biondello Biron blood Bohemia Boyet Camillo CLEOMENES Clown Costard Count daughter dost doth ducats Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father fear Fleance fool gentle gentleman give grace Gremio hand hath hear heart heaven honour Hortensio Kate Kath Katharine King lady Laun Leon live look lord Lucentio Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff madam maid marry master mistress Moth Nerissa never oath Orlando Padua Petruchio Pompey pr'ythee pray ring Rosalind Rousillon Salan SCENE Servant shalt Shep shew Shylock signior speak swear sweet tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast tongue Tranio unto wife Witch word young
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 106 - If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility ? revenge ; If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? why, revenge. The villainy, you teach me, I will execute ; and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction.
Strona 134 - Therefore the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But music for the time doth change his nature : The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus : Let no such man be trusted.
Strona 478 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me : I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Strona 74 - 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, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Strona 186 - twill be eleven ; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; And thereby hangs a tale.
Strona 125 - Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.
Strona 189 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well...
Strona 189 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress
Strona 74 - When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Strona 481 - Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt.