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" And let my liver rather heat with wine Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? "
Tremaine ; Or, The Man of Refinement - Seite 84
von Robert Plumer Ward - 1836
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Merchant of Venice. As you like it

William Shakespeare - 1785 - 402 Seiten
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster f Sleep when he wakes f and creep into the jaundice By being peevish i I tell thee what, Anthonio,...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare, Band 2

William Shakespeare - 1803 - 556 Seiten
...old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, — I...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text ..., Band 3

William Shakespeare - 1803 - 446 Seiten
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio,-rr...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare : Accurately Printed from the Text ..., Band 3

William Shakespeare - 1805 - 452 Seiten
...old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio,—...
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The plays of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustr ..., Band 4

William Shakespeare - 1805 - 456 Seiten
...oKl wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. "Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,—...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text ..., Band 3

William Shakespeare - 1805 - 576 Seiten
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, —...
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The comedies of The Merchant of Venice, and As you like it, with the notes ...

William Shakespeare - 1805 - 350 Seiten
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? : Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Anthonio,...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare: With the Corrections and ..., Band 4

William Shakespeare - 1806 - 460 Seiten
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio, — I...
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The Plays of William Shakespeare: With Notes of Various Commentators, Band 3

William Shakespeare - 1806 - 414 Seiten
...old wrinkles come; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, —...
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The Plays of Shakspeare: Printed from the Text of Samuel Johnson ..., Band 7

William Shakespeare - 1807 - 348 Seiten
...wrinkles come ; And let my liver rather heat with wine, Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? Sleep, when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio,—...
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