A Concordance to Shakespeare: Suited to All the Editions, in which the Distinguished and Parallel Passages in the Plays of that Justly Admired Writer are Methodically Arranged. To which are Added, Three Hundred Notes and Illustrations, Entirely NewG.G.J. and J. Robinson, 1787 - 470 стор. |
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Сторінка v
... fear Death . Julius Cæfar , A. 1 , S. 2 . -Let higher Italy fee that you come , Not to woo Honour , but to wed it . All's well that ends well , A. 2 , S. 1 . His honour , Clock to itself , knew the true minute when Exception bid him ...
... fear Death . Julius Cæfar , A. 1 , S. 2 . -Let higher Italy fee that you come , Not to woo Honour , but to wed it . All's well that ends well , A. 2 , S. 1 . His honour , Clock to itself , knew the true minute when Exception bid him ...
Сторінка 4
... fear , and fad distrust , Govern the motion of a kingly eye . I. King John , A. 5 , S. 1 , If thou didst but confent To this most cruel act , do but despair , And , if thou want'ft a cord , the smallest thread That ever fpider twisted ...
... fear , and fad distrust , Govern the motion of a kingly eye . I. King John , A. 5 , S. 1 , If thou didst but confent To this most cruel act , do but despair , And , if thou want'ft a cord , the smallest thread That ever fpider twisted ...
Сторінка 18
... fear'd abroad , That with his name the mothers ftill their babes ? Henry VI . P. 1 , A. 2 , S. 3 . In thy fight to die , what were it elfe , But like a pleasant flumber in thy lap ? Here could I breathe my foul into the air , As mild ...
... fear'd abroad , That with his name the mothers ftill their babes ? Henry VI . P. 1 , A. 2 , S. 3 . In thy fight to die , what were it elfe , But like a pleasant flumber in thy lap ? Here could I breathe my foul into the air , As mild ...
Сторінка 22
... fear them . Julius Cæfar , A. 2 , S. 2 , ' Tis pofitive ' gainst all exception , lords , That our fuperfluous lacqueys , and our peasants , Who , in unneceffary action , fwarm About our squares of battle , were enough Το purge this ...
... fear them . Julius Cæfar , A. 2 , S. 2 , ' Tis pofitive ' gainst all exception , lords , That our fuperfluous lacqueys , and our peasants , Who , in unneceffary action , fwarm About our squares of battle , were enough Το purge this ...
Сторінка 23
... fear , nor fly ; For I will touch thee but with reverent hands . I kifs these fingers for eternal peace , And lay them gently on thy tender fide . 4 . Henry VI . P. 1 , A. 5 , S. 4 . ' Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud ; But ...
... fear , nor fly ; For I will touch thee but with reverent hands . I kifs these fingers for eternal peace , And lay them gently on thy tender fide . 4 . Henry VI . P. 1 , A. 5 , S. 4 . ' Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud ; But ...
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A Concordance to Shakespeare: Suited to All the Editions, in Which the ... Andrew Becket Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2018 |
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againſt All's Antony and Cleopatra beſt blood Coriolanus Cymbeline death doft doth expreffion eyes faid fear feems fenfe fhall fhew fhould fignify firſt fleep fome fool forrow foul fpeak fpirit ftand ftill fuch fuppofe furely fweet fword Gentlemen of Verona grief Hamlet hath heart heaven Henry IV Henry V. A. Henry VI Henry VIII himſelf honour itſelf JOHNSON Julius Cæfar King John Lear lord Love's Labour Loft Meafure for Meaſure means Merchant of Venice Midfummer Night's Dream moft moſt muft muſt myſelf noble o'er obferve Othello paffage paffion praiſe prefent reafon Richard Richard II Shakeſpeare ſhall ſhe ſhould read ſpeak ſpeech ſtand ſtate STEEVENS tears Tempeft thee thefe themſelves theſe thing thofe thoſe thou art thouſand Timon of Athens tongue Troilus and Creffida Twelfth Night uſe virtue WARBURTON whofe Whoſe Winter's Tale word
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Сторінка 343 - Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid. Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut , Made by the joiner squirrel , or old grub , Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers...
Сторінка 12 - 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.
Сторінка 67 - To monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and...
Сторінка 162 - O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
Сторінка 298 - Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ. Yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?
Сторінка 14 - Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it ? Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Сторінка 139 - element,' but the word is over-worn. \Exit. Vio. This fellow is wise enough to play the fool ; And to do that well craves a kind of wit : He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye.
Сторінка 61 - Cowards die many times before their deaths ; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
Сторінка 463 - His nature is too noble for the world : He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his mouth : What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent ; And, being angry, does forget that ever He heard the name of death.
Сторінка 94 - 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.