The Works of Shakespeare, Том 3J. and P. Knapton, 1752 |
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Сторінка 15
... fellow . Count . Well , Sir . Clo . No , Madam ; ' tis not fo well that I am poor , tho ' many of the rich are damn'd ; but , if I have your ladyship's good will to go to the world , Isbel the woman . and I will do as we may . Count ...
... fellow . Count . Well , Sir . Clo . No , Madam ; ' tis not fo well that I am poor , tho ' many of the rich are damn'd ; but , if I have your ladyship's good will to go to the world , Isbel the woman . and I will do as we may . Count ...
Сторінка 25
... fellows , and like to prove most finewy fword - men . [ Exeunt . Enter the King , and Lafeu , Laf . Pardon , my Lord , for me and for my tidings . King . I'll fee thee to stand up . Laf . Then here's a man stands , that hath bought his ...
... fellows , and like to prove most finewy fword - men . [ Exeunt . Enter the King , and Lafeu , Laf . Pardon , my Lord , for me and for my tidings . King . I'll fee thee to stand up . Laf . Then here's a man stands , that hath bought his ...
Сторінка 31
... fellow , to fay precifely , were not for the court : but for me , I have an answer will ferve all men . Count . Marry , that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions . Clo . It is like a barber's chair , that fits all buttocks ; the ...
... fellow , to fay precifely , were not for the court : but for me , I have an answer will ferve all men . Count . Marry , that's a bountiful answer that fits all questions . Clo . It is like a barber's chair , that fits all buttocks ; the ...
Сторінка 33
... Fellows- Par . Right , fo I fay . Laf . That gave him out incurable , - Par . Why , there ' tis , fo fay I too . Laf . Not to be help'd , - Par . Right , as ' twere a man affur'd of an Laf . Uncertain life , and fure death , - Par ...
... Fellows- Par . Right , fo I fay . Laf . That gave him out incurable , - Par . Why , there ' tis , fo fay I too . Laf . Not to be help'd , - Par . Right , as ' twere a man affur'd of an Laf . Uncertain life , and fure death , - Par ...
Сторінка 39
... fellow ; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel ; it might pafs ; yet the scarfs and the ban- nerets about thee did manifoldly diffuade me from be- lieving thee a veffel of too great a burthen , I have now found thee ; when I lose ...
... fellow ; thou didst make tolerable vent of thy travel ; it might pafs ; yet the scarfs and the ban- nerets about thee did manifoldly diffuade me from be- lieving thee a veffel of too great a burthen , I have now found thee ; when I lose ...
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Сторінка 246 - Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ? Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight ? and all eyes blind With the pin and web,' but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
Сторінка 376 - 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.
Сторінка 133 - 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 407 - 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.
Сторінка 97 - If music be the food of love, play on ; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again ! it had a dying fall : O ! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.